THE 

SALAMANDER 


OWEN  JOHNSON 


THE  SALAMANDER 


Do  re 


THE 
SALAMANDER 


By 

OWEN  JOHNSON 

Author  of 

THE  VARMINT,  STOVER  AT  YAI.B 
THE  SIXTY-FIRST  SECOND,  ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

EVERETT  SHINN 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1914 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


PRESS    OF 
BRAUNWORTH    &    CO. 

BOOKBINDERS     AND    PRINTERS 
BROOKLYN,    N.   Y. 


TO  MY  WIFE 


FOREWORD 


Precarious  the  lot  of  the  author  who  elects  to  show 
his  public  what  it  does  not  know,  but  doubly  exposed  he 
who  in  the  indiscreet  exploration  of  customs  and  man- 
ners publishes  what  the  public  knows  but  is  unwilling  to 
confess !  In  the  first  place  incredulity  tempers  censure, 
in  the  second  resentment  is  fanned  by  the  necessity  of 
self -recognition.  For  the  public  is  like  the  defendant  in 
matrimony,  amused  and  tolerant  when  unconvinced  of 
the  justice  of  a  complaint,  but  fiercely  aroused  when  de- 
fending its  errors. 

In  the  present  novel  I  am  quite  aware  that  where  criti- 
cism is  most  risked  is  at  the  hands  of  those  entrenched 
moralists  who,  while  admitting  certain  truths  as  fit  sub- 
jects for  conversation,  aggressively  resent  the  same  when 
such  truths  are  published.  Many  such  will  believe  that 
in  the  following  depiction  of  a  curious  and  new  type  of 
modern  young  women,  product  of  changing  social  forces, 
profoundly  significant  of  present  unrest  and  prophetic  of 
stranger  developments  to  come,  the  author,  in  depicting 
simply  what  does  exist,  is  holding  a  brief  for  what  should 
exist. 

If  the  type  of  young  girls  here  described  were  an 
ephemeral  manifestation  or  even  a  detached  fragment  of 
our  society,  there  might  be  a  theoretical  justification  for 
this  policy  of  censure  by  silence.  But  the  Salamanders 
are  neither  irrelevant  nor  the  product  of  unrelated 
forces.  The  rebellious  ideas  that  sway,  them  are  the 
same  ideas  that  are  profoundly  at  work  in  the  new  gen- 


FOREWORD 

eration  of  women,  and  while  for  this  present  work  I  have 
limited  my  field,  be  sure  that  the  young  girl  of  to-day, 
from  the  age  of  eighteen  to  twenty-five,  whether  facing 
the  world  alone  or  peering  out  at  it  from  the  safety  of 
the  family,  whether  in  the  palaces  of  New  York,  the 
homesteads  of  New  England,  the  manors  of  the  South 
or  the  throbbing  cities  and  villages  of  the  West,  whatever 
her  station  or  her  opportunity,  has  in  her  undisciplined 
and  roving  imagination  a  little  touch  of  the  Salamander. 

That  there  exists  a  type  of  young  girl  that  heedlessly 
will  affront  every  appearance  of  evil  and  can  yet  remain 
innocent ;  that  this  innocence,  never  relinquished,  can  yet 
be  tumultuously  curious  and  determined  on  the  explora- 
tion of  the  hitherto  forbidden  sides  of  life,  especially 
when  such  reconnoitering  is  rendered  enticing  by  the 
presence  of  danger — here  are  two  apparent  contradic- 
tions difficult  of  belief.  Yet  in  the  case  of  the  Salaman- 
der's brother,  society  finds  no  such  difficulty — it  terms 
that  masculine  process,  "seeing  the  world,"  a  study  rather 
to  be  recommended  for  the  sake  of  satisfied  future  tran- 
quillity. 

That  the  same  can  be  true  of  the  opposite  sex,  that  a 
young  girl  without  physical  temptation  may  be  urged  by 
a  mental  curiosity  to  see  life  through  whatever  windows, 
that  she  may  feel  the  same  impetuous  frenzy  of  youth  as 
her  brother,  the  same  impulse  to  sample  each  new  excite- 
ment, and  that  in  this  curiosity  may  be  included  the  safe 
and  the  dangerous,  the  obvious  and  the  complex,  the 
casual  and  the  strange,  that  she  may  arrogate  to  herself 
the  right  to  examine  everything,  question  everything, 
peep  into  everything — tentatively  to  project  herself  into 
every  possibility  and  after  a  few  years  of  this  frenzy  of 
excited  curiosity  can  suddenly  be  translated  into  a  formal 


FOREWORD 

and  discreet  mode  of  life — here  is  an  exposition  which 
may  well  appear  incredible  on  the  printed  page.  I  say  on 
the  printed  page  because  few  men  are  there  who  will  not 
recognize  the  justice  of  the  type  of  Salamander  here  por- 
trayed. Only  as  their  experience  has  been  necessarily 
individual  they  do  not  proceed  to  the  recognition  of  a 
general  type.  They  know  them  well  as  accidents  in  the 
phantasmagoria  of  New  York  but  they  do  not  compre- 
hend them  in  the  least. 

The  Salamander  in  the  last  analysis  is  a  little  atom  pos- 
sessed of  a  brain,  thrown  against  the  great  tragic  luxury 
of  New  York,  which  has  impelled  her  to  it  as  the  flame 
the  moth. 

She  comes  roving  from  somewhere  out  of  the  im- 
mense reaches  of  the  nation,  revolting  against  the  com- 
monplace of  an  inherited  narrowness,  passionately  adven- 
turous, eager  and  unafraid,  neither  sure  of  what  she 
seeks  nor  conscious  of  what  forces  impel  or  check  her. 
She  remains  a  Salamander  only  so  long  as  she  has  not 
taken  a  decision  to  enter  life  by  one  of  the  thousand  ave- 
nues down  which  in  her  running  course  she  has  caught 
an  instant  vista.  Her  name  disappears  under  a  new  self- 
baptism.  She  needs  but  a  little  money  and  so  occasion- 
ally does  a  little  work.  She  brings  no  letters  of  introduc- 
tion, but  she  comes  resolved  to  know  whom  she  chooses. 
She  meets  them  all,  the  men  of  New  York,  the  mediocre, 
the  interesting,  the  powerful,  the  flesh  hunters,  the  brutes 
and  those  who  seek  only  an  amused  mental  relaxation. 
She  attracts  them  by  hook  or  crook,  in  defiance  of  eti- 
quette, compelling  their  attention  in  ways  that  at  the 
start  hopelessly  mystify  them  and  lead  to  mistakes.  Then 
she  calmly  sets  them  to  rights  and  forgives  them.  If  she 
runs  recklessly  in  the  paths  of  danger,  it  is  because  to 


FOREWORD 

her  obsessed  curiosity  it  is  imperative  for  her  to  try  to 
comprehend  what  this  danger  can  mean. 

She  has  no  salon  to  receive  her  guests — she  turns  her 
bedroom  at  noon  into  a  drawing-room,  not  inviting  every 
one,  but  to  those  to  whom  she  extends  the  privilege  fiercely 
regulating  the  proprieties.  She  may  have  a  regular  oc- 
cupation or  an  occasional  one,  neither  must  interfere  with 
her  liberty  of  pleasure.  She  needs  money — she  acquires 
it  indirectly,  by  ways  that  bear  no  offense  to  her  delight- 
fully illogical  but  keen  sensibilities.  With  one  man  she 
will  ride  in  his  automobile,  far  into  the  night — to  another 
she  will  hardly  accord  the  tips  of  her  gloves.  She  makes 
no  mistakes.  Her  head  is  never  dizzy.  Her  mind  is  in 
control  and  she  knows  at  every  moment  what  she  is  do- 
ing. She  will  dare  only  so  far  as  she  knows  she  is  safe. 

She  runs  the  gamut  of  the  city,  its  high  lights  and  its 
still  shadows.  She  enters  by  right  behind  its  varied 
scenes.  She  breakfasts  on  one  egg  and  a  cup  of  coffee, 
takes  her  luncheon  from  a  high-legged  stool  in  a  cellar 
restaurant,  reluctantly  counting  out  the  change,  and  the 
same  night,  with  supreme  indolence,  descends  from  a 
luxurious  automobile,  before  the  flaring  portals  of  the 
restaurant  most  in  fashion,  giving  her  fingers  to  those 
who  rank  among  the  masters  of  the  city. 

This  curiosity  that  leads  her  to  flit  from  window  to 
window  has  in  it  no  vice.  It  is  fed  only  by  the  zest  of 
life.  Her  passion  is  to  know,  to  leave  no  cranny  unex- 
plored, to  see,  not  to  experience,  to  flit  miraculously 
through  the  flames — never  to  be  consumed ! 

That  her  standard  of  conduct  is  marvelous,  that  her 
ideas  of  what  is  permitted  and  what  is  forbidden  are 
mystifying,  is  true.  So  too  is  it  difficult  to  comprehend, 
in  the  society  of  men  of  the  world,  what  is  fair  and  what 


FOREWORD 

is  unfair,  what  is  "done"  and  what  is  not  "done."  To 
understand  the  Salamander,  to  appreciate  her  significance 
as  a  criticism  of  our  present  social  forms,  one  must  first 
halt  and  consider  what  changes  are  operating  in  our 
social  system. 

If  one  were  privileged  to  have  the  great  metropolis  of 
New  York  reduced  to  microcosm  at  his  feet,  to  be  studied 
as  man  may  study  the  marvelous  organism  of  the  ant- 
hill or  the  hive,  two  curious  truths  would  become  evi- 
dent. First  that  those  whom  the  metropolis  engenders 
seldom  succeed  their  fathers,  that  they  move  in  circles  as 
it  were,  endlessly  revolving  about  a  fixed  idea,  appar- 
ently stupefied  by  the  colossal  shadows  under  which  they 
have  been  born;  secondly  that  daily,  hourly  even,  a 
stream  of  energetic  young  men  constantly  arrives  from 
the  unknown  provinces,  to  reinvigorate  the  city,  rescue  it 
from  stagnation,  ascending  abruptly  to  its  posts  of  com- 
mand, assuming  direction  of  its  manifold  activities — 
ruling  it. 

Further,  one  would  perceive  that  the  history  of  the  city 
is  the  result  of  these  two  constantly  opposed  forces,  one 
striving  to  conserve,  the  other  to  acquire.  The  inheritors 
constantly  seek  to  define  the  city's  forms,  encase  its  so- 
ciety, limit  its  opportunities,  transform  its  young  activi- 
ties into  inheritable  institutions ;  while  the  young  and 
ardent  adventurers  who  come  with  no  other  baggage  than 
their  portmanteaux  of  audacity  and  sublime  disdain,  are 
constantly  firing  it  with  their  inflaming  enthusiasm,  puri- 
fying it  with  their  new  health,  forcing  the  doors  of  re- 
luctant sets,  storming  its  giant  privileges,  modernizing  its 
laws,  vitalizing  its  arts,  capturing  its  financial  hierarchies, 
opposing  to  the  solidifying  force  of  attempted  systems 


FOREWORD 

their  liberating  corrective  of  opportunity  and  individual- 
ism. Of  the  two  forces,  only  the  conqueror  from  with- 
out is  important. 

This  phenomenon  of  immigration  is  neither  new  nor 
peculiar  to  our  civilization.  It  is  indeed  the  living  prin- 
ciple of  a  metropolis  which,  as  it  requires  food,  water, 
fire  for  its  material  existence,  must  also  hourly  levy, 
Minotaur-like,  its  toll  on  foreign  youth.  Woman  has 
had  no  counterpart  to  this  life-giving  fermentation  of 
young  men.  The  toll  of  the  metropolis  has  been  the  toll 
of  corruption,  spreading  corruption,  and  this  continuous 
flow  of  the  two  sexes  through  the  gates  of  the  city  has 
been  like  the  warring  passage  through  the  arteries  of  red 
life-defending  corpuscles  and  disease-bearing  germs. 

Now  suddenly  to  one  who  thus  profoundly  meditates 
this  giant  scheme,  a  new  phenomenon  has  appeared.  All 
at  once  amid  the  long  stretching  lines  of  young  men  that 
seek  the  city  from  the  far  horizon  appear  the  figures  of 
young  women,  not  by  hundreds  but  by  the  thousands, 
following  in  the  steps  of  their  brothers,  wage-earners 
animated  by  the  same  desire  for  independence,  eager  and 
determined  for  a  larger  view  of  life,  urged  outward  by 
the  same  imperative  revolt  against  stagnation,  driven  by 
the  same  unrest  for  the  larger  horizon.  This  culmina- 
tive  movement,  begun  in  the  decline  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  may  well  be  destined  to  mark  the  twentieth 
century  as  the  great  era  of  social  readjustment. 

In  the  past  the  great  block  to  woman's  complete  and 
equal  communion  with  man  has  been  her  economic  de- 
pendence on  him;  while  she  has  not  been  necessary  to 
man,  man  has  been  necessary  to  her.  Hence  her  forced 
acceptation  of  his  standard  of  her  position  and  her  du- 
ties. In  one  generation,  by  this  portentous  achievement 


FOREWORD 

of  economic  independence,  woman  in  a  night,  like  Wolfe 
on  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  has  suddenly  elevated  herself 
to  a  position  of  aggressive  equality.  Those  who  see  in 
the  feminine  movement  no  further  than  a  question  of  f 
political  expediency  perceive  no  more  than  a  relatively 
unimportant  manifestation.  What  has  happened  is  that 
the  purely  masculine  conception  of  society  has  been  sud- 
denly put  to  the  challenge.  Man's  conception  of  religion, 
of  marriage  and  the  family,  of  property  rights  versus  sen- 
timental rights,  of  standards  of  conduct  and  political  ex- 
pediency, imperfect  and  groping  as  they  have  been,  will, 
in  the  future,  progress  according  to  a  new  alliance  be- 
tween man  and  woman.  And  this  world  revolution  has 
come,  day  by  day,  month  after  month,  in  the  spectacle  of 
young  women,  bundles  in  arms,  light  of  purse,  rebel  in 
heart,  moving  in  silent  thousands  toward  the  great  cities. 
In  this  new  army  of  women  who  have  now  intrenched 
themselves  in  the  strongholds  of  economic  independence, 
there  are  two  distinct  but  related  divisions,  the  great  mass 
who  must  work  and  the  relatively  smaller  class,  socially 
more  significant,  who  must  live,  those,  of  whom  the  Sala- 
manders are  the  impatient  outstripping  advance,  who  are 
determined  to  liberate  their  lives  and  claim  the  same 
rights  of  judgment  as  their  brothers. 

What  has  brought  this  great  emigration  to  pass  ?  Sev- 
eral causes,  some  actively  impelling,  others  merely  pas- 
sively liberating — the  taking  down  of  weakened  bars. 

The  causes  which  have  actively  impelled  this  liberating 
emigration  are  more  clearly  perceived,  the  causes  which 
have  passively  permitted  this  removal  of  the  bars  are  less 
obvious.  We  are  a  society  of  passage — between  two 
ports.  Scarcely  can  we  recall  the  thin  shores  we  have 


FOREWORD 

departed,  nor  can  any  one  foretell  what  outlines,  at  the 
end  of  the  voyage,  will  rise  out  of  the  sea  of  experiment. 
In  every  social  revolution  there  are  three  distinct  genera- 
tions, the  first  of  intrenched  traditions,  the  second  of  vio- 
lent reaction  and  the  third  of  reconstruction.  And  if  it 
seem  a  law  of  nature's  tireless  action  and  reaction  that 
fathers  and  sons  should  be  ever  set  against  one  another, 
ever  misunderstanding  one  another,  the  true  measure  of 
human  progress  lies  in  that  degree  of  change  which  re- 
sults between  the  first  and  the  third  generations.  Be- 
tween this  old  generation  of  authority  and  this  present 
generation  of  logic  has  come  a  feminine  revolution  start- 
ling in  the  shock  of  its  abruptness.  Yet  a  social  revolu- 
tion that  obliterates  in  an  hour  the  landmarks  of  ages, 
frequently  resembles  a  cataclysm  of  nature — the  gather- 
ing torrent  only  becomes  possible  with  the  last  six  inches 
of  earth.  What  has  broken  out  in  these  last  half  a  dozen 
years  has  been  accumulating  without  beginning — for 
ideas  can  have  no  beginnings.  They  have  existed  in 
the  unconscious  human  soul  as  the  germ  of  physical  evo- 
lution has  lain  among  the  glaciers  and  the  wilderness. 

What  then  was  the  position  of  women  under  the  old 
order?  That  generation  of  authority  was  intrenched  in 
the  great  social  domination  of  the  church.  What  in  effect 
did  religion  say  to  women  ?  It  said : 

"Remember  always  that  this  life  is  of  no  moment.  It 
is  given  you  that  you  may  inherit  eternity.  Reckon  not 
the  present,  aspire  to  the  next.  Abnegation  is  glorious, 
suffering  is  to  be  prized,  sacrifices  patiently  made  bring 
you  by  so  much  nearer  to  Heaven.  Subordinate  yourself, 
bear  everything,  accept  all  burdens  gladly.  Live  for 
others ;  forgive,  inspire.  If  this  life  seem  to  you  narrow 


FOREWORD 

and  motherhood  staggering,  bleak,  joyless,  think  not  on 
the  fatigue  but  on  the  awakening." 

With  the  turning  of  men's  minds  to  the  dormant  truths 
of  science  came  a  great  agnostic  revolt  that  brought  a 
scientific  questioning  of  all  facts  and  a  demand  that 
everything  should  fall  or  stand  by  the  test  of  the  reason. 
In  this  new  enthusiasm  for  logic,  which  has  overturned 
so  many  rooted  institutions  with  its  militant  individual- 
ism, the  authority  of  the  home  has  been  shattered,  divorce 
has  been  multiplied  in  the  protest  against  the  old  unrea- 
soning tyranny  of  marriage,  and  the  Puritan  domination 
of  the  church  has  too  often  become  a  social  institution  for 
the  better  ordering  of  the  masses  and  an  outward  form  of 
polite  respectability.  In  this  complete  breaking  down  of 
authority  the  voice  of  the  church  that  spoke  to  women 
has  been  lost. 

Another  troubling  phase  began  simultaneously,  the  pe- 
riod of  miraculous  material  opportunity,  the  fungus 
growth  of  fortunes  great  and  little.  The  suddenly  pros- 
perous parents  began  to  plan  for  their  children  those  op- 
portunities which  had  been  denied  them,  seeking  to  edu- 
cate them  beyond  what  they  had  known — a  process  ever 
linked  with  tragedy  and  disillusionment.  What  now  re- 
sults, with  the  thousands  of  young  girls  who  have  learned 
of  magazines  and  novels  or  who  have  gone  out  from  the 
confining  narrowness  of  little  homes  to  a  broader  educa- 
tion— not  simply  in  books  but  in  the  experience  of  life,  of 
a  certain  independency,  of  the  opportunities  beyond  ? 

At  about  the  age  of  eighteen  the  Salamander  returns 
to  town  or  village,  to  the  mediocrity  of  the  home  from 
which  she  has  escaped,  and  at  once  the  great  choice  of 


FOREWORD 

life  presents  itself  to  her.  What  she  has  learned,  what 
she  has  absorbed  from  every  newspaper  has  awakened 
her  curiosity  and  given  her  a  hunger  of  the  great  life 
which  is  throbbing  somewhere,  far  away,  in  great  cities, 
in  a  thousand  fascinating  forms. 

To  remain,  to  take  up  a  mild  drudgery  in  the  home, 
means  closing  the  door  on  this  curiosity.  Marriage  to 
such  men  as  remain  means  at  best  the  renunciation  of 
that  romance  which  is  stirring  in  her  imagination.  Why 
should  she  have  been  educated,  if  but  to  return  to  a  dis- 
tasteful existence?  The  parents  by  the  very  education 
which  has  thrust  their  daughter  so  far  above  their  simple 
needs  have  destroyed  their  old  authority.  No  other  voice 
of  authority  commands  her  in  credible  tones  to  renounce 
the  follies  of  this  life — to  consult  only  the  future. 

In  fact  she  is  none  too  certain  of  what  is  beyond,  but 
she  is  certain  of  what  she  wants  to-day.  She  spurns  the 
doctrine  that  it  is  woman's  position  to  abnegate  and  to 
immolate  herself.  New  ideas  are  stirring  within  her, 
logical  revolts — equality  of  burden  with  men,  equality  of 
opportunity  and  of  pleasure.  She  is  sure  of  one  life  only 
and  that  one  she  passionately  desires.  She  wants  to  live 
that  life  to  its  fullest,  now,  in  the  glory  of  her  youth. 
She  wants  to  breathe,  not  to  stifle.  She  wants  adventure. 
She  wants  excitement  and  mystery.  She  wants  to  see,  to 
know,  to  experience.  .  .  . 

And  one  fine  day,  inevitably,  she  packs  her  valise  as 
her  brothers  may  have  done  before  her,  and  despite  com- 
mands, entreaties,  tears,  she  stands  at  last  on  the  plat- 
form of  a  shivering  creaking  train,  waving  the  inevitable 
farewell  to  the  old  people,  who  stand  bewildered,  strain- 
ing their  eyes  after  the  fast-fading  handkerchief,  feebly 
fluttered  by  the  daughter  whom  they  have  educated  for 


FOREWORD 

this.    She  will  come  back  soon.    She  will  return  in  a  few 
months — in  a  year,  surely.    She  never  returns. 

Sometimes  the  home  has  been  disrupted  by  divorce,  by 
death  or  by  indifference ;  in  which  case  her  departure  is 
the  sooner.  Sooner  or  later  if  she  is  clever  or  attractive 
she  reaches  New  York.  New  York  is  the  troubling  light 
whose  rays  penetrate  to  her  wherever  she  may  start.  At 
last,  one  fine  day,  she  crowds  impatiently  forward  to  the 
front  of  the  choked  ferry-boat,  beholds  the  play  of  a 
million  lights  starting  against  the  twilight,  vast  shapes 
crowding  to  the  water's  edge  like  mythological  monsters, 
towers  flinging  up  new  stars  among  the  constellations — 
and  the  battle  has  begun. 

What  will  she  become  ?  In  six  months  she  has  learned 
the  anatomy  of  the  complex  struggling  city,  flinging  her- 
self into  a  ceaseless  whirl  of  excitement.  She  usually 
finds  a  facile  occupation  which  gives  her  the  defense  and 
the  little  ready  money  she  needs.  She  goes  into  journal- 
ism, stenography  or  the  office  of  a  magazine.  Sometimes 
she  has  already  been  trained  to  nursing,  which  opens 
many  avenues  of  acquaintance  to  her  deft  planning. 
Sometimes  she  has  a  trick  with  pen  or  pencil  and  plays 
at  art.  More  often  she  touches  the  stage  in  one  of  a 
dozen  ways.  But  all  this  is  beside  the  mark.  Her  real 
occupation  is  exploration — how  do  they  act,  these  men, 
clever  or  stupid,  rich,  poor,  mediocre,  dangerous  or  pro- 
vokingly  easy  to  manage?  What  is  the  extent  of  the 
power  that  she  can  exert  over  them  ? 

Her  education  has  been  quickly  formed.  The  great 
fraternity  of  the  Salamanders  has  taught  her  of  their 
curious  devious  understanding.  Her  acquaintance  with 
women  is  necessarily  limited,  but  she  can  meet  what  men 


FOREWORD 

she  wishes,  men  of  every  station,  men  drawn  to  her  by 
the  lure  of  her  laughter  and  tantalizing  arts,  men  who 
simply  wish  to  amuse  themselves,  or  somber  hunters  who 
have  passed  beyond  the  common  stuff  of  adventuresses 
and  seek  with  a  renewal  of  excitement  this  corruption  of 
innocence.  She  has  no  fear  of  these  last,  matching  her 
wits  against  their  appetites,  paying  them  back  cruelly  in 
snare  and  disillusion.  She  lives  in  automobiles  and  taxi- 
cabs,  dines  in  a  new  restaurant  every  night — and  with 
difficulty,  each  week,  scrapes  up  the  necessary  dollars  to 
pay  her  board.  She  knows  the  insides  of  pawn-shops,  has 
secret  treaties  with  tradesmen  and  by  a  hundred  strata- 
gems procures  herself  presents  which  may  be  converted 
into  cash.  She  is  fascinated  by  "dangerous"  men.  She 
adores  perilous  adventures  and  somehow  or  other,  mi- 
raculously, she  never  fails  in  saving  her  skirts  from  the 
contagion  of  the  flames. 

The  period  in  which  she  whirls  in  this  frantic  existence 
— the  day  of  the  Salamander — is  between  eighteen  and 
twenty-five.  She  does  not  make  the  mistake  of  prolong- 
ing, beyond  her  youth  and  her  charm,  this  period  fas- 
cinating though  it  be.  By  twenty-five,  often  sooner,  she 
comes  to  some  decision.  Frequently  she  marries,  and 
marries  well,  for  the  opportunities  at  her  disposal  are 
innumerable.  Then  what  she  becomes  must  depend  on 
the  invisible  hazards  that  sport  with  all  marriages.  Some- 
times she  selects  a  career — few  women,  indeed,  are  there 
in  the  professions  who  have  not  known  their  years  among 
the  Salamanders — but  as  she  is  always  ruled  by  her  brain, 
she  does  not  often  deceive  herself ;  she  sees  clearly  the 
road  ahead  and  seldom  ventures  unless  she  is  convinced. 
Sometimes  she  prefers  her  single  existence,  resigning 
herself  to  a  steady  occupation,  slipping  back  into  Sala- 


FOREWORD 

manderland  occasionally.  Sometimes — more  rarely  than 
it  would  seem — she  takes  the  open  step  beyond  the  social 
pale,  conquered  at  length  by  the  antagonists  she  has  so 
long  eluded — but  then  she  has  betrayed  the  faith  of  a 
Salamander. 

To  a  European,  the  Salamanders  are  incomprehensible. 
He  meets  them  often  en  voyage,  often  to  the  cost  of  his 
pride,  and  for  his  vanity's  sake  he  denies  their  innocence. 
In  his  civilization  they  could  not  exist.  Even  the  New 
Yorker,  who  analyzes  her  surface  manners,  recounts  her 
tricks  and  evasions,  her  deceptive  advances,  is  still  igno- 
rant of  the  great  currents  beneath,  and  of  how  profound 
is  their  unrest. 

For,  capricious,  inconsistent,  harum-scarum,  dabbling 
with  fire — yet  is  she  not  the  free  agent  she  so  ardently  be- 
lieves ?  Back  of  all  the  passionate  revolt  against  the  com- 
monplace in  life,  back  of  all  the  defiantly  proclaimed 
scorn  of  conventions,  there  are  the  hushed  echoes  of  the 
retreating  first  generation,  there  are  old  memories,  whis- 
pers of  childhood  faith,  hesitations  and  doubts  that  re- 
turn and  return,  and  these  quiet  suspended  sounds  con- 
stantly turn  her  aside,  make  of  her  a  being  constantly  at 
war  with  herself,  where  will  and  instinct  are  ever  op- 
posed without  she  perceives  or  comprehends  the  where- 
for. 

We  see  clearly  two  generations,  the  old  order  of  broken 
authority  passing  sadly  away,  the  new  which  is  bravely 
seeking  a  logical  standard  of  conduct  beyond  that  of 
blind  obedience — if  yet  the  time  be  arrived  when  human- 
ity be  ready.  The  third — that  coming  generation  in 
which  woman  will  count  for  so  much,  where  for  the  first  , 


FOREWORD 

time  she  will  construct  and  order — where  will  it  go? 
Backward  a  little  or  forward?  Will  those  who  have 
been  Salamanders  to-day,  turned  mothers  to-morrow, 
still  teach  what  they  have  proclaimed,  that  what  is  wrong 
for  the  woman  is  wrong  for  the  man  and  that  if  man  may 
experience  woman  may  explore  ? 


THE  SALAMANDER 


THE  SALAMANDER 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  day  was  Thursday;  the  month,  October, 
rushing  to  its  close;  and  the  battered  alarm- 
clock  on  the  red  mantel  stood  at  precisely  one  o'clock. 
The  room  was  enormous,  high  and  generally  dim, 
the  third  floor  front  of  Miss  Pirn's  boarding-house 
on  lower  Madison  Avenue.  Of  its  four  windows, 
two,  those  at  the  side,  had  been  blinded  by  the  up- 
rising of  an  ugly  brick  wall,  which  seemed  to  impend 
over  the  room,  crowding  into  it,  depriving  it  of  air. 
The  two  windows  fronting  on  the  avenue  let  in  two 
shafts  of  oblique  sunlight.  The  musty  violet  paper 
on  the  walls,  blistered  in  spots,  was  capped  by  a  frieze 
of  atrocious  pink  and  blue  roses.  The  window-shades, 
which  had  been  pulled  down  to  shut  out  the  view  of 
the  wall,  failed  to  reach  the  bottom.  The  curtain- 
rods  were  distorted,  the  globes  on  the  gas  fixtures 
bitten  and  smoked.  At  the  back,  an  alcove  held  a 
small  bed,  concealed  under  a  covering  of  painted  east- 
ern material.  An  elongated  gilt  mirror,  twelve  feet 
in  height,  leaned  against  the  corner.  Trunks  were 
scattered  about,  two  open  and  newly  ransacked.  A 
folding-bed  transformed  into  a  couch,  heaped  with 


2  THE  SALAMANDER 

cushions,  was  between  the  blind  windows:  opposite, 
a  ponderous  rococo  dressing-table,  the  mirror  stuffed 
with  visiting-cards,  photographs  and  mementoes. 
Half  a  dozen  vases  of  flowers  —  brilliant  chrysanthe- 
mums, heavily  scented  violets,  American  Beauty  roses, 
slender  and  nodding  —  fought  bravely  against  the  per- 
vading dinginess.  On  the  large  central  table  stood 
a  basket  of  champagne,  newly  arrived,  a  case  of  as- 
sorted perfumes,  a  box  of  white  evening  gloves  and 
two  five-pound  boxes  of  candy  in  fancy  baskets. 

Before  the  mirrored  dressing-table,  tiptoe  on  a 
trunk,  a  slender  girlish  figure  was  studying  solicitously 
the  effect  of  gold  stockings  and  low  russet  shoes  with 
buckles  of  green  enamel.  She  wras  in  a  short  skirt 
and  Russian  blouse,  rich  and  velvety  in  material,  of 
a  creamy  rose-gold  luster.  The  sunlight  which  struck 
at  her  ankles  seemed  to  rise  about  her  body,  suffusing 
it  with  the  glow  of  joy  and  youth.  The  neck  was 
bare ;  the  low,  broad,  rolling  silk  collar,  which  followed 
the  graceful  lines  of  the  shoulders  beneath,  was 
softened  by  a  full  trailing  bow  of  black  silk  at  the 
throat.  A  mass  of  tumbling,  tomboy,  golden  hair, 
breaking  in  luxuriant  tangles  over  the  clear  temples, 
crowned  the  head  with  a  garland.  Just  past  twenty- 
two,  her  figure  was  the  figure  of  eighteen,  by  every 
descending  line,  even  to  the  little  ankles  and  feet, 
finely  molded. 

She  had  elected  to  call  herself,  according  to  the  cus- 
tom of  the  Salamanders,  Dore  Baxter.  The  two 
names,  incongruously  opposed,  were  like  the  past  and 
the  present  of  her  wandering  history :  the  first,  brilliant, 


"What  do  you   really   tliink? 


THE  SALAMANDER  3 

daring,  alive  with  the  imperious  zest  and  surprise  of 
youth;  the  second  baldly  realistic,  bleak,  like  a  dis- 
tant threatening  uprise  of  mountains. 

On  the  couch,  languidly  lost  among  the  cushions, 
Winona  Horning  (likewise  a  nom  de  guerre)  was 
abandoned  in  lazy  attention.  In  the  embrasure  of  one 
window,  camped  tailor  fashion  in  a  large  armchair,  a 
woman  was  studying  a  role,  beating  time  with  one 
finger,  mumbling  occasionally: 

"  Tum-tum-ti-tumpety-tum-tum-tum ! 

I  breakfast  in  diamonds,  I  bathe  in  cream. 

What's  the  use?     What's  the  use?" 

Snyder  —  she  called  herself  Miss,  but  passed  for 
being  divorced  —  was  not  of  the  fraternity  of  the 
Salamanders.  Dore  Baxter  had  found  her  in  ill 
health,  out  of  a  position,  discouraged  and  desperate; 
and  in  a  characteristic  impulse,  against  all  remon- 
strances, had  opened  her  room  to  her  until  better  days. 
The  other  Salamanders  did  not  notice  her  presence  or 
admit  her  equality.  She  seemed  not  to  perceive  their 
hostility,  never  joining  in  their  conversation,  going 
and  coming  silently. 

The  sharp  shaft  of  the  sun,  bearing  down  like  a 
spot-light,  brought  into  half  relief  the  mature  lines  of 
the  body  and  the  agreeable,  if  serious,  features.  The 
brown  head,  with  a  defiance  of  coquetry,  was  simply 
dressed,  braided  about  with  stiff  rapid  coils.  The 
dress  was  black,  the  waist  unrelieved  —  the  costume 
of  the  woman  who  works.  What  made  the  effect 
seem  all  the  more  severe  was  that  there  was  more  than 


4  THE  SALAMANDER 

a  trace  of  beauty  in  the  face  and  form  —  a  prettiness 
evidently  disdained  and  repressed.  One  shoe,  pro- 
jecting into  the  light,  was  noticeably  worn  at  the  heel. 

All  at  once,  without  turning,  the  girl  on  the  trunk, 
twisting  anxiously  before  the  mirror,  exclaimed: 

"  Winona,  what  do  you  really  think?" 

"  It  doesn't  show  from  here." 

"  How  can  you  see  from  there  ?  Come  over 
nearer ! " 

Winona  Horning,  taller,  more  thoughtful  in  her 
movements,  rose  reluctantly,  fixing  a  strand  of  jet- 
black  hair  which  had  strayed,  and  seated  herself  ac- 
cording to  the  command  of  a  little  finger.  Her  com- 
plexion was  very  pale  against  the  black  of  her  hair, 
her  eyes  were  very  large,  given  to  violent  and  sudden 
contrasts,  more  intense  and  more  restless  than  her  com- 
panion's. 

"And  now?"  said  Dore,  lifting  the  glowing  skirt 
the  fraction  of  an  inch. 

"  Still  all  right." 

"Really?" 

"Really!" 

"And  now?" 

"  Um-m  —  yes,  now  it  shows !  " 

On  the  golden  ankle  a  mischievous  streak  of  white 
had  appeared  —  a  seam  outrageously  rent. 

"Heavens,  what  a  fix!  I've  just  got  to  wear 
them!  "  said  Dore,  dropping  her  skirts  with  a  move- 
ment of  impatience. 

"  Estelle  has  a  pair  — " 

"  She  needs  them  at  three.     We  can't  connect !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  5 

"Bah!  Dazzle  with  the  left  leg,  then,  Dodo,"  re- 
plied Winona,  giving  her  her  pet  name. 

Dore  accepted  the  suggestion  with  a  burst  of 
laughter,  and  springing  lightly  down,  seated  herself 
on  the  trunk. 

"  Yes  —  yes,  it  can  be  done,"  she  said  presently, 
after  a  moment's  practising.  "  If  I  don't  forget!  " 

"  You  won't,"  said  Winona,  with  a  smile. 

Snyder  rose  from  her  seat,  and  without  paying  the 
slightest  attention  to  this  serious  comedy,  crossed  the 
room  and  returned  to  her  post,  bringing  a  pencil,  with 
which  she  began  eagerly  to  jot  down  a  few  notes. 

"Like  the  effect?"  said  Dore,  leaving  the  mirror 
with  a  last  glance,  the  tip  of  her  tongue  appearing  a 
moment  through  the  sharp  white  rows  of  teeth,  in 
the  abstraction  of  her  gaze. 

She  turned,  and  for  the  first  time  her  eyes  raised 
themselves  expectantly.  They  were  of  a  deep  ultra- 
marine blue,  an  unusual  cloudy  shade  which  gave  an 
unexpected  accent  of  perplexity  to  the  fugitive  white 
and  pink  of  the  cheek. 

"  Perfectly  dandy,  Dodo ;  but  — " 

At  this  moment  from  the  little  antechamber  out- 
side the  door  came  the  irritable  silvery  ring  of  the 
telephone. 

"  See  who  it  is,"  said  Dore  quickly.  "  Remember ! 
you  don't  know  if  I'm  in  —  find  out  first." 

As  Winona  crossed  toward  the  back,  Dore  turned 
with  a  mute  interrogation  toward  the  figure  in  the 
window,  and  extending  her  arms,  pirouetted  slowly 
twice.  Lottie  Snyder  responded  with  a  sudden  smile 


6  THE  SALAMANDER 

that  lighted  up  her  features  with  a  flash  of  beauty. 
She  nodded  twice  emphatically,  continuing  to  gaze 
with  kindness  and  affection.  Then  she  took  up  her 
role  bruskly  as  Winona  returned. 

"It's  a  Mr.  Chester  — Cheshire?  What  shall  I 
say?" 

"  Chesterton,"  said  Dore.     "  I'll  go." 

She  consumed  a  moment  searching  among  the  over- 
flow of  gloves  on  the  trunk-tray,  and  went  to  the  tele- 
phone, without  closing  the  door.  Winona,  not  to 
speak  to  Snyder,  began  to  manicure  her  hands. 
From  tire  hall  came  the  sounds  of  broken  conversation  : 

"  Hello?  Who  is  it?  .  .  .  Yes,  this  is  Miss  Baxter 
.  .  .  Who?  .  .  .  Huntington?  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  Chester- 
ton ...  of  course  I  remember  .  .  .  How  do  you  do  ? 
.  .  .  I'm  just  up.  ...  Yes,  splendid  dance!  .  .  . 
What?  .  .  .  To-night?  .  .  .  No-o.  .  .  .  Who  else  is 
in  the  party  ?  .  .  .  Just  us  two  ?  .  .  .  No,  I  guess  not ! 
.  .  .  Aren't  you  a  little  sudden,  Mr.  Chesterton  ?  .  .  . 
Not  with  you  alone.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes;  but  I'm  very 
formal!  That's  where  you  make  your  mistake.  .  .  . 
Certainly,  I'd  go  with  a  good  many  men,  but  not  with 
you.  .  .  .  Not  till  I  really  know  you.  .  .  .  Now,  I'm 
going  to  tell  you  something,  Mr.  Chesterton.  I'm  not 
like  other  girls,  I  play  fair.  I  expect  men  to  make 
mistakes  —  one  mistake.  I  always  forgive  once,  and 
I  always  give  one  warning  —  just  one!  You  under- 
stand? All  right!  I  won't  say  any  more!  .  .  .  No, 
I'm  not  offended.  .  .  .  I'm  quite  used  to  such  mis- 
takes: they  sort  of  follow  dances,  don't  they?  .  .  . 
Well,  that's  nice;  I'm  glad  you  understand  me.  .  .  . 


THE  SALAMANDER  7 

Some  men  don't,  you  know!  .  .  .  That's  very  flat- 
tering! ...  If  what?  ...  If  it's  made  a  party  of 
four?  .  .  .  That  would  be  different,  yes.  .  .  .  Try  — 
telephone  me  about  six  and  I'll  let  you  know.  .  .  . 
No,  I  couldn't  say  definitely  now ;  I'll  have  to  try  and 
get  out  of  another  party.  .  .  .  No,  I  haven't  seen  that 
play  yet.  .  .  .  Phone  at  six.  .  .  .  Oh,  dear  me! 
How  easily  you  repeat  that!  .  .  .  Why,  yes,  I  liked 
you;  I  thought  you  danced  the  Hesitation  perfectly 
dandy.  ..."  (A  laugh.)  "Well,  that's  enough. 
...  I  can't  promise.  .  .  .  Phone,  anyhow.  .  .  . 
Good-by.  .  .  .  Yes,  oh,  yes.  .  .  .  Good-by.  .  .  .  Not 
offended!  Oh,  no!  ...  Good-by!" 

She  came  back,  and  extending  her  fingers  above 
her  head,  said: 

"  So  high !  "  She  brought  her  hands  close  together : 
"  So  thin !  A  monocle  —  badly  tamed  —  a  ladylike 
mustache  —  all  I  remember !  Oh,  yes,  he  said  he  had 
two  automobiles  —  most  important !  "  She  shrugged 
her  shoulders  and  added  maliciously :  "  We'll  put  him 
down,  anyhow  —  last  call  for  dinner!  ...  So  you 
don't  like  my  costume?" 

"  That  isn't  it !  "  said  Winona.  She  turned,  hesi- 
tating :  "  Only,  for  an  orgy  of  old  Sassoon's." 

"  Orgy,"  in  the  lexicon  of  the  Salamanders,  is  a 
banquet  in  the  superlative  of  lavishness;  on  the  other 
hand,  a  dinner  or  a  luncheon  that  has  the  slightest 
taint  of  economy  is  derogatorily  known  as  a  "  tea- 
party." 

"  It's  my  style  —  it's  me!  "  said  Dore,  with  a  confi- 
dent bob  of  her  head. 


8  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Those  girls  will  come  all  Gussied  up  for  Sassoon," 
persisted  Winona.  "  Staggering  under  the  war- 
paint ! " 

"  Let  me  alone,"  said  Dodo ;  "  I  know  what  I'm 
doing!" 

She  knew  she  had  made  no  blunder.  The  costume 
exhaled  a  perfume  of  freshness  and  artless  charm, 
from  the  daintiness  with  which  the  throat  was  revealed, 
from  the  slight  youthful  bust  delicately  defined  under 
the  informality  of  the  blouse,  to  the  long  descending 
clinging  of  the  coat,  which  followed,  half-way  to  the 
knee,  lines  of  young  and  slender  grace  which  can  not 
be  counterfeited. 

"  It's  individual  —  it's  me,"  she  repeated,  running 
her  little  hands  caressingly  down  the  slim  undulation 
of  the  waist,  caught  in  by  the  trim  green  belt. 

The  telephone  rang  a  second  time. 

"  Joe  Gilday,"  said  Winona  presently,  covering  the 
mouthpiece  with  her  hand. 

"  Say  I'm  in,"  said  Dore  hastily,  in  a  half  whisper. 
"  Now  go  back  and  say  I'm  out !  " 

"What's  wrong?"  said  Winona,  opening  her  eyes. 

"  Needs  disciplining." 

"  He  knows  you're  here  —  says  he  must  speak  to 
you,"  said  the  emissary,  reappearing. 

"  Tell  him  I  am,  and  won't,"  said  Dore  mercilessly. 

Snyder,  with  a  sudden  recognition  of  the  clock,  rose, 
and  going  to  a  trunk,  pounced  on  a  sailor  hat,  slap- 
ping it  on  her  head  without  looking  in  the  mirror. 
She  came  and  planted  herself  before  Dore,  who  had 
watched  her,  laughing. 


THE  SALAMANDER  9 

"  Beating  it  up  to  Blainey's,"  she  said.  The  voice 
was  low,  but  with  a  slur  that  accused  ordinary  ante- 
cedents. "  Say,  he's  dipped  on  you ;  got  a  fat  part 
salted  away  —  if  you  ever  turn  up!  Why  don't  you 
see  him?  "  ' 

"  I  will  —  I  will." 

"  Look  here.  You're  not  going  to  let  everything 
slip  this  season,  too,  are  you?" 

"How  do  I  know  what  I'll  do  to-morrow?"  said 
Dore,  laughing. 

"  Aren't  you  ever  going  to  settle  down  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed;  in  a  year!" 

"  It's  a  real  fat  part ;  you're  crazy  to  lose  the 
chance ! " 

"  Tell  Blainey  to  be  patient ;  I'm  going  to  be  serious 
—  soon!" 

"See  him!" 

"I  will  — I  will!" 

"When?" 

"  To-rnorrow  —  perhaps." 

She  took  Snyder  by  the  shoulders,  readjusting  the 
hat. 

"  Aren't  you  ashamed  to  treat  yourself  this  way ! 
You  can  be  real  pretty,  if  you  want  to." 

"  When  I  want  to,  I  am,"  said  Snyder,  shrugging 
her  shoulders,  but  opposing  no  resistance  to  the  re- 
arrangement of  her  costume. 

"  Snyder,  you  do  it  on  purpose ! "  said  Dore,  vexed 
at  the  hang  of  the  skirt,  which  resisted  her  efforts. 

Winona  reentered.  She  had  heard  the  conversa- 
tion with  one  ear,  while  extending  comfort  to  the 


io  THE  SALAMANDER 

frantic  Gilday  in  disgrace.  Snyder,  with  the  entree 
to  Blainey,  manager  for  the  Lipswitch  and  Berger  Cir- 
cuit, aroused  her  respect  with  her  envy. 

"Snyder,  what  do  you  do  all  the  time?"  she  said 
in  a  conciliatory  tone. 

"  Meaning  what  ?  " 

"  You  never  go  out  —  never  amuse  yourself !  " 

"  I  amuse  myself  much  more  than  you ! " 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Winona. 

"Much  more.     I  work!" 

Saying  which,  she  flung  into  her  jacket  like  a  school- 
boy, and  went  out  without  further  adieus. 

"  Pleasant  creature !  "  said  Winona  acidly. 

"  It's  you  who  are  wrong,"  said  Dore  warmly. 
"Why  patronize  her?" 

"  There  is  a  difference  between  us,  I  think,"  said 
Winona  coldly.  "  Really,  Dodo,  I  don't  understand 
how  you  can  — " 

"  Let  Snyder  alone,"  said  Dore,  with  a  flash  of 
anger.  "  No  harm  comes  from  being  decent  to  some 
one  who's  down.  Don't  be  so  hard  —  you  never  know 
what  may  happen  to  you ! "  Seeing  the  flush  on 
Winona's  face,  she  softened  her  tone  and,  her  habitual 
good  humor  returning,  added :  "  If  you  knew  her 
struggle —  There!  Let's  drop  it!" 

Fortunately,  the  telephone  broke  in  on  the  tension. 
Another  followed,  even  before  she  had  left  the  ante- 
room. The  first  was  an  invitation  from  Roderigo 
Sanderson,  one  of  Broadway's  favorite  leading  men, 
to  a  dress  rehearsal  of  a  new  comic  opera  that  promised 
to  be  the  rage  of  the  season.  While  secretly  delighted 


THE  SALAMANDER  n 

at  the  prospect,  Dore  answered,  in  a  tone  of  subdued 
suffering,  that  she  was  in  bed  with  a  frightful  head- 
ache—  that,  though  it  seemed  to  be  improving,  she 
couldn't  tell  how  she  would  feel  later,  and  adjourned 
a  decision  until  six,  at  which  hour  he  was  to  telephone. 
She  gave  the  same  reply  to  the  second  invitation,  a 
proposition  from  Donald  Bacon,  a  broker,  who  was 
organizing  a  party  for  a  cabaret  dance  later  in  the 
evening. 

"Hurray!  Now  I  can  have  a  choice,"  she  said, 
tripping  gaily  back  and  pirouetting  twice  on  her  left 
foot.  Suddenly  she  stopped,  folding  her  arms  sav- 
agely. 

"Winona!" 

"What?" 

"I'm  bored!" 

"Since  when?" 

"Don't  laugh!  Really,  I  am  unhappy!  If  some- 
thing exciting  would  happen  —  if  I  could  fall  in 
love!" 

'You  will  be  when  you  come  back!" 

"Yes  —  that's  the  trouble!"  said  Dore,  laughing. 
"  But  it  never  lasts !  " 

"  And  day  before  yesterday  ?  " 

"What  about  it?" 

"  That  wonderful  Italian  you  came  home  raving 
about?" 

"  Ah,  yes!  that  was  a  great  disappointment!  "  She 
repeated,  in  a  tone  of  discouragement :  "  A  great  dis- 
appointment! It's  the  second  meeting  that's  so  aw- 
ful !  Men  are  so  stupid,  it's  no  fun  any  more ! "  All 


12 

at  once  she  noticed  her  friend's  attitude.  "  What's 
the  matter?  You're  not  angry!" 

"  No,  not  that !  "  Winona  rose,  flinging  down  the 
manicuring  sticks,  drawing  a  deep  breath.  "  Only, 
when  I  see  you  throwing  over  a  chance  like  that  from 
Blainey— " 

"What!  You  want  the  job?"  exclaimed  Dore, 
struck  by  the  thought. 

"Want  it?"  cried  the  girl  bitterly.  "I'd  go  up 
Broadway  on  my  knees  to  get  it ! " 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"  Ah !  this  has  got  to  end  sometime,"  said  the  girl, 
locking  and  unlocking  her  fingers.  "  Snyder  was 
right.  It's  work  —  work !  She's  lucky !  " 

Dore  became  suddenly  thoughtful.  Between  Sala- 
manders real  confidences  are  rare.  She  knew  nothing 
of  the  girl  who  was  separated  from  her  but  by  a  wall, 
but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  pain  in  her  voice. 

"  I'm  sorry !  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I've  come  to  the  end  of  my  rope,"  said 
Winona.  "  I'm  older  than  you  —  I've  played  too 
long!" 

"You  shall  have  the  job!" 

"  Oh,  it's  easy  to  — " 

"  I'll  go  to-morrow.  I'll  make  Blainey  give  it  to 
you." 

"He  won't!" 

"He?  Of  course  he  will!  That  old  walrus? 
He'll  do  anything  I  tell  him!  That's  settled!  I'll 
see  him  tec-morrow !  " 

Winona  turned,  composing  her  passion. 


THE  SALAMANDER  13 

"I'm  a  fool!"  she  said. 

"Hard  up?" 

""Busted!" 

"  The  deuce !  So'm  I !  Never  mind ;  we'll  find  some 
way — " 

"  Why  don't  you  take  the  job  yourself?  " 

"  I  ?  Never !  I  couldn't !  It's  too  soon  to  be  se- 
rious !  "  exclaimed  Dore,  laughing  in  order  to  relieve 
the  tension.  "  When  I'm  twenty-three  —  in  six 
months  —  not  before!  It's  all  decided." 

"  First  time  you've  been  to  one  of  Sassoon's 
parties?"  asked  Winona  abruptly. 

"  First  time !     I'm  quite  excited !  " 

"You've  met  him,  then?" 

"  No,  not  yet !     I'm  going  as  a  chorus  girl." 

"What?" 

"He's  entertaining  the  sextette  of  the  Gay  Prince 
—  I'm  to  replace  one.  I  got  the  bid  through  Adele 
Vickers  —  you  remember  her?  She's  in  the  sex- 
tette." 

"  Adele  Vickers,"  said  Winona,  with  a  frown. 

"  It's  on  the  quiet,  naturally,"  said  Dore,  not  notic- 
ing the  expression.  "  I'm  to  be  taken  for  a  chorus 
girl,  by  old  Sassoon  too  —  complications,  heaps  of 
fun!" 

"  You're  crazy !     Some  one'll  recognize  you !  " 

"Bah!" 

"  Sassoon  doesn't  play  fair !  "  said  Winona  abruptly. 

"  Dangerous  ?  " 

"  He  doesn't  play  the  game  fair !  "  repeated  Winona, 
with  more  insistence. 


I4  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I  like  precipices !  "  said  Dore,  smiling. 

"  How  you  express  things,  Dodo !  " 

"  Why?     Don't  you  like  'em?  " 

"  Yes,  naturally.     But  with  Sassoon  — " 

"  It's  such  fun !  "  said  Dore,  shaking  her  curls. 

Her  companion  crossed  her  fingers  and  held  them 
up  in  warning. 

"Dodo,  be  careful!" 

"I'll  take  care  of  myself!"  said  Dore  scornfully, 
and  a  flash  of  excitement  began  to  show  in  the  dark 
blue  shadows  of  her  eyes. 

"  Different !     Sassoon  is  on  the  black  list,  Dodo ! " 

Albert  Edward  Sassoon,  whom  two  little  Sala- 
manders were  thus  discussing  in  a  great  barn  of  a 
room,  third  floor  front  of  Miss  Pirn's  boarding-house, 
was  the  head  of  the  great  family  of  Sassoon,  which  for 
three  generations  had  stood,  socially  and  financially, 
among  the  first  powers  of  the  city. 

"  Thanks  for  the  warning.  When  you  know,  you 
know  what  to  do!"  said  Dore  carelessly.  "Just  let 
him  try!" 

The  admonition  troubled  her  not  at  all.  She  had 
met  and  scored  others  before  who  in  the  secret  code 
of  the  Salamanders  were  written  down  unfair.  The 
prospect  of  such  an  antagonist  brought  to  her-  a  little 
more  animation.  She  bolted  into  a  snug-fitting  fur 
toque,  brightened  by  a  flight  of  feathers  at  the  side, 
green  with  a  touch  of  red. 

"  There !  "  she  exclaimed  merrily.  "  A  bit  of  the 
throat,  a  bit  of  the  ankle,  and  a  slash  of  red  —  that's 
Dodo!  What's  the  time?" 


THE  SALAMANDER  15 

"  Twenty  past.     Who's  your  prop  ?  " 

"  Stacey." 

"  Prop,"  in  the  lexicon  of  the  Salamanders,  is  a 
term  obviously  converted  from  the  theatrical  "  prop- 
erty." A  "prop,"  in  Salamanderland,  is  a  youth  not 
too  long  out  of  the  nest  to  be  rebellious,  possessed  of 
an  automobile  —  a  sine  qua  non  —  and  agitated  by  a 
patriotic  craving  to  counteract  the  evil  effects  of  the 
hoarding  of  gold.  Each  Salamander  of  good  stand- 
ing counts  from  three  to  a  dozen  props,  carefully 
broken,  kept  in  a  state  of  expectant  gratitude,  genii 
of  the  telephone  waiting  a  summons  to  fetch  and  carry, 
purchase  tickets  of  all  descriptions,  lead  the  way  to 
theater  or  opera,  and,  above  all,  to  fill  in  those  blank 
dates,  or  deferred  engagements,  which  otherwise  might 
become  items  of  personal  expense. 

At  this  moment  the  curly  brown  head  of  Ida  Sum- 
mers, of  the  second  floor  back,  bobbed  in  and  out,  say- 
ing in  a  stage  whisper: 

"  Black  Friday !  Beware !  The  cat's  loose  —  ram- 
paging!" 

It  was  a  warning  that  Miss  Pirn,  in  a  periodic  spasm 
of  alarm,  was  spreading  dismay  through  the  two 
houses  in  her  progress  in  'search  of  long-deferred 
rents. 

"  Horrors ! "  exclaimed  Winona  Horning.  She 
sprang  to  the  door  which  gave  into  her  room,  ready  to 
use  it  as  an  escape  from  either  attack. 

''Twice  this  week.  Um-m  —  means  business!" 
said  Dore  solemnly.  "  I'm  three  weeks  behind.  How 
are  you  ?  " 


i6  THE  SALAMANDER 

"Five!" 

"  We  must  get  busy,"  said  Dore  pensively.  "  I 
have  just  two  dollars  in  sight!  " 

"  Two?     You're  a  millionaire!  " 

"  The  champagne  will  bring  something,"  said  Dore, 
fingering  the  basket,  "  but  I  can't  let  it  go  until  Mr. 
Peavey —  If  he'd  only  call  up  for  to-night!  Zip 
might  take  the  perfume,  but  I  need  it  so !  Worse  luck, 
the  flowers  have  all  come  from  the  wrong  places. 
There's  twenty  dollars  there,  if  it  were  only  Pouffe. 
And  look  at  this !  " 

She  went  to  her  bureau,  and  opening  a  little  drawer, 
held  up  a  bank-note. 

"Fifty  dollars!"  exclaimed  Winona,  amazed. 

"  Ridiculous,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Dore,  with  a  laugh, 
shutting  it  up  again.  "Joe  Gilday  had  the  imperti- 
nence to  slip  it  in  there,  after  I  had  refused  a  loan !  " 

"  What !  Angry  for  that  ?  "  said  Winona,  carried 
away  by  the  famine  the  money  had  awakened  in  her. 

"  Certainly  I  am !  "  said  Dore  energetically.  "  Do 
you  think  I'd  allow  &  man  to  give  me  money  —  like 
that?" 

This  ethical  point  might  have  been  discussed,  but  at 
the  moment  a  knock  broke  in  upon  the  conversation. 
The  two  girls  started,  half  expecting  to  behold  Miss 
Pirn's  military  figure  advancing  into  the  room. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  said  Dore  anxiously. 

"  It's  Stacey,"  said  a  docile  voice. 

"Shall  I  go?"  inquired  Winona,  with  a  gesture. 

"No,  no  —  stay!  Always  stay!"  said  Dore, 
hastily  stuffing  back  the  overflowing  contents  of  a 


THE  SALAMANDER  17 

trunk  and  signaling  Winona  to  close  the  lid  nearest 
her. 

Stacey  Van  Loan  crowded  into  the  room.  He  was 
a  splendid  grenadier  type  of  man,  with  the  smiling 
vacant  face  of  a  boy.  He  wore  shoes  for  which  he 
paid  thirty  dollars,  a  suit  that  cost  a  hundred,  a  great 
fur  coat  that  cost  eight  times  more,  enormous  fur 
gloves,  and  a  large  pearl  pin  in  his  cravat.  On  enter- 
ing, he  always  blushed  twice,  the  first  as  an  apology 
and  the  second  for  having  blushed  before.  The  most 
captious  Salamander  would  have  accepted  him  at  a 
glance  as  the  beau  ideal  of  a  prop  —  a  perfect  blend 
of  radiating  expensiveness  and  docile  timidity.  Van 
Loan  Senior,  of  the  steel  nobility  of  Pennsylvania,  had 
insisted  on  his  acquiring  a  profession  after  two  un- 
fortunate attempts  at  collegiate  culture,  and  had  exiled 
him  to  New  York  to  study  law,  allotting  him  twenty 
thousand  dollars  a  year  to  defray  necessary  expenses. 

"  Bingo !  what  a  knock-out !  "  said  Stacey,  gazing 
open-mouthed,  heels  together,  at  the  glowing  figure 
"that  greeted  him. 

Dore,  who  had  certain  expectations  as  to  his  arrival, 
perceiving  that  he  held  one  hand  concealed  behind 
his  back,  broke  into  smiles. 

"  You  sly  fellow,  what  are  you  hiding  there?  " 

"  All  right  ?  "  said  Van  Loan,  with  an  anxious  gulp. 
"How  about  it?" 

He  thrust  out  an  enormous  bouquet  of  orchids, 
which,  in  his  fear  of  appearing  parsimonious,  he  had 
doubled  beyond  all  reason.  The  sight  of  these  flowers 
of  luxury,  the  price  of  which  would  have  gone  a  long 


i8 

way  toward  placating  Miss  Pirn,  brought  a  quick  tele- 
graphic glance  of  irony  between  the  two  girls. 

"Isn't  he  a  darling?"  said  Dore,  taking  the  huge 
floral  display  and  stealing  a  glance  at  the  ribbon,  which, 
alas,  did  not  bear  the  legend  Pouffe,  who  was  approach- 
able in  time  of  need.  "  Stacey  is  really  the  most 
thoughtful  boy,  and  everything  he  gets  is  in  perfect 
taste.  He  never  does  anything  by  halves !  " 

As  she  said  this  in  a  careless  manner,  which  made 
the  young  fellow  redden  to  the  ears  with  delight,  she 
was  secretly  smothering  a  desire  to  laugh,  and  wonder- 
ing how  on  earth  she  was  to  divide  the  monstrous  dis- 
play without  discouraging  future  exhibitions  of  lavish- 
ness.  She  moved  presently  toward  the  back  of  the 
room,  saying  carelessly: 

"  Look  at  my  last  photographs,  Stacey." 

Then  she  quickly  slipped  a  third  of  the  bouquet  be- 
hind a  trunk,  signaling  Winona,  and  turning  before 
the  long  mirror,  affixed  the  orchids,  spreading  them 
loosely  to  conceal  the  defection. 

"  Quarter  of.  You'll  be  late !  "  said  Winona,  mask- 
ing the  trunk  with  her  skirts. 

"I  want  to  be!  I'm  not  going  to  have  a  lot  of 
society  women  find  me  on  the  door-step!  "  said  Dore, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  prop.  "  Come  on,  Stacey ;  you 
can  look  at  the  photos'another  day !  "  She  flung  about 
her  shoulders  a  white  stole  from  the  floor  below,  and 
buried  her  hands  in  a  muff  of  the  same  provenance. 
"  Good-by,  dear.  Back  late.  Go  ahead,  Stacey !  " 

A  moment  later  she  reentered  hurriedly. 

"  Give  me  the  others,  quick ! "  she  said,  detaching 


THE  SALAMANDER  19 

those  at  her  waist.  "  These  are  from  Granard's. 
Take  them  there  —  tell  them  Estelle  sent  you ;  she  has 
an  arrangement  with  them.  See  what  you  can  get. 
Tell  them  we'll  send  'em  custom." 

She  completed  the  transfer  of  the  smaller  bunch, 
carefully  arranging  the  wide  stole,  which  she  pinned 
against  accidents. 

"  Listen.  If  Joe  telephones  again,  make  him  call 
me  up  at  six  —  don't  say  I  said  it!  It's  possible 
Blainey  may  get  it  in  his  head  to  call  up.  I'll  go  with 
him,  unless  —  unless  P'eavey  wants  me  for  dinner.  I 
must  see  him  before  I  dispose  of  the  champagne  —  un- 
derstand ?  You  know  what  to  answer  the  rest."  She 
hesitated,  looking  at  the  orchids :  "  We  ought  to  get 
fifteen  out  of  them.  Remember,  promise  them  our 
custom;  use  Pouffe  on  them.  Good-by,  dear!" 

"Be  careful!" 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  yes !  " 

"  Dangerous ! " 

"Bah!     If  they  only  were  —  but  they're  not!" 

She  rejoined  Stacey,  whose  nose  was  sublimely  at 
the  wheel,  crying: 

"  Let  her  go,  Stacey.  Up  to  Tenafly's.  Break  the 
speed  law ! " 

She  started  to  spring  in,  but  suddenly  remembering 
the  offending  stocking,  stopped  and  ascended  quietly 
—  on  the  left  foot. 


CHAPTER  II 

AT  this  time,  it  happened  that  the  highest  demo- 
cratic circles  of  New  York  were  thrown  into  a 
turmoil  of  intrigue  and  social  carnage  by  the  visit  of 
representatives  of  one  of  the  royal  houses  of  Europe, 
traveling  under  the  title  of  the  Comte  and  Comtesse 
de  Joncy.  A  banquet  had  been  respectfully  tendered 
these  rare  manifestations  of  the  principle  of  divine 
right.  The  list  of  guests,  directed  by  the  autocratic 
hand  of  Mrs.  Albert  Edward  Sassoon,  tore  New  York 
society  to  shreds,  and  reconstituted  that  social  map 
which  had  been  so  opportunely  established  by  the  visit 
of  the  lamented  Grand  Duke  and  Royal  Imperial  High- 
ness Alexis.  Twenty-five  young  gentlemen  of  irre- 
proachable standing  had  flung  themselves  enthusiastic- 
ally at  the  distinguished  honor  of  offering  soup  to  such 
exalted  personages,  and  the  press  of  New  York  scru- 
pulously published  the  list  of  honorary  waiters  high 
among  the  important  details  of  the  probable  cost  per 
plate  of  this  extraordinary  banquet. 

Now,  the  Comte  de  Joncy,  being  profoundly  bored 
by  such  amateur  exhibitions,  had  remarked  to  Sassoon 
that,  in  his  quality  of  traveler  and  student  of  im- 
portant social  manifestations,  what  had  impressed  him 
most  was  the  superior  equipment,  physically  and  men- 
tally, of  the  American  chorus  girl. 

20 


THE  SALAMANDER  21 

It  was  a  remark  that  Sassoon  was  eminently  fitted 
to  comprehend  —  having,  indeed,  received  the  same 
confidential  observation  from  the  Comte  de  Joncy's 
last  royal  predecessor.  The  present  luncheon  was  the 
prompt  response,  and  to  insure  the  necessary  freedom 
from  publicity,  Harrigan  Blood,  editor  of  the  New 
York  Free  Press,  was  invited. 

They  waited  in  the  brilliant  Louis  XVI  salon  of 
that  private  suite  which  Tenafly  reserved  for  his 
choicest  patrons,  patiently  prepared  for  that  extra  half- 
hour  of  delay  which  the  ladies  of  the  chorus  would  be 
sure  to  take  in  their  desire  to  show  themselves  ladies 
of  the  highest  fashion.  The  curtains  were  open  on 
the  cozy  dining-room,  on  the  .spectacle  of  shining 
linen,  the  spark  of  silver  and  the  gay  color  of  fra- 
grant bouquets.  Two  or  three  waiters  were  giving 
the  last  touches  under  the  personal  supervision  of 
Tenafly  himself,  who  accorded  this  mark  of  respect 
only  to  the  master  who  had  raised  him  from  head 
waiter  in  a  popular  roadside  inn  to  the  management 
of  a  restaurant  capitalized  in  millions. 

There  were  six :  Sassoon,  slight,  waxen,  bored,  with 
a  wandering,  fatigued  glance,  oriental  in  the  length 
of  his  head  and  the  deep  setting  of  the  eyes ;  the  Comte 
de  Joncy,  short,  round-bellied,  hair  transparent  and 
polished,  parted  from  the  forehead  to  the  neck,  with 
nothing  of  dignity  except  in  his  gesture  and  the  agree- 
able modulation  of  his  voice ;  Judge  Massingale  of  the 
magistrates  court,  urbane,  slightly  stooped  in  shoul- 
ders, high  in  forehead,  set  in  glance,  an  onlooker 
keenly  observant,  and  observing  with  a  relish  that 


22  THE  SALAMANDER 

showed  in  the  tolerant  humor  of  the  thin  ever-smiling 
lips;  Tom  Busby,  leader  of  cotillions  and  social  pre- 
scriber  to  a  bored  and  desperate  world,  active  as  a 
young  girl,  bald  at  thirty,  but  with  a  radiating  charm, 
disliking  no  one,  never  failing  in  zest,  animating  the 
surface  of  gaiety,  blind  to  ugliness  below,  well  born 
and  indispensable;  Garret  Lindaberry,  known  better 
as  "  Garry  "  Lindaberry,  not  yet  thirty,  framed  like 
a  frontiersman,  with  a  head  molded  for  a  statesman, 
endowed  with  every  mental  energy  except  necessity, 
burning  up  his  superb  vitality  in  insignificant  su- 
premacies, a  magnificent  man-of-war  sailing  without  a 
rudder,  supremely  elegant ;  never,  in  the  wildest  orgies, 
relaxing  the  control  of  absolute  courtesy;  finally,  Har- 
rigan  Blood,  interloper,  last  to  arrive,  abrupt  and  on 
the  rush,  in  gray  cheviot,  which  he  had  assumed  as  a 
flaunting  of  his  independence  before  those  whose  mo- 
tive for  inviting  him  he  perfectly  understood.  Neck 
and  shoulders  massive,  head  capacious  and  already  be- 
ginning to  show  the  stealing  in  of  the  gray,  jaw  strong 
and  undershot  like  a  bulldog's,  cropped  mustache,  fore- 
head seamed  with  wrinkles,  incapable  of  silence  or  at- 
tention except  when  in  the  sudden  contemplative  pur- 
suit of  an  idea,  disdaining  men,  and  women  more  than 
men  on  account  of  the  distraction  they  flung  him  into, 
passionately  devoted  to  ideas,  he  bided  his  time,  know~ 
ing  no  morality  but  achievement. 

The  group  formed  an  interesting  commentary  on 
American  society  of  the  day,  which  parallels  that  of 
modern  France,  with  its  Bourbon,  its  Napoleonic  and 
its  Orleanist  strata  of  nobility.  Sassoon  and  Mass- 


THE  SALAMANDER  23 

ingale  were  of  the  old  legitimists,  offshoots  of  families 
that  had  never  relaxed  their  supremacy  from  colonial 
days;  Lindaberry  and  Busby  were  inheritors  in  the 
third  generation  of  that  first  period  of  industrial  ad- 
venture, the  period  of  the  gold-fields  of  1845,  while 
Harrigan  Blood  was  of  the  present  era  of  volcanic 
opportunity,  that  creates  in  a  day  its  marshals  of  the 
Grand  Army  of  Industry,  ennobles  its  soldiers  of  yes- 
terday, and  forces  the  portals  of  established  sets  with 
the  golden  knocking  of  new  giants,  who  cast  on  the 
steps  the  soiled  garments  of  the  factory,  the  mining 
camp  and  the  construction  gang. 

Past  and  present  have  given  the  American  two  dis- 
tinct types.  The  characteristics  of  the  first  are  aris- 
tocratic, the  thinly  elongated  head,  the  curved  skull 
balancing  on  a  slender  neck,  nose  and  forehead  ad- 
vancing, the  jaw  less  and  less  accentuated.  Of  the 
second,  the  type  of  the  roughly  arriving  adventurer, 
Harrigan  Blood  was  the  ideal.  His  was  the  solid, 
crust-breaking,  boulder  type  of  head,  embedded  on, 
shoulders  capable  of  propelling  it  upward  through  the 
multitude,  the  democrat  who  places  his  chair  roughly 
in  the  overcrowded  front  rank,  whose  wife  and  daugh- 
ters will  crown,  by  way  of  Europe,  the  foundation 
which  he  flings  down. 

"  Mon  cher  Sassoon,"  said  the  Comte  de  Joncy, 
studying  Blood, —  who,  in  another  group,  was  dis- 
cussing the  coming  political  campaign  with  Mas- 
singale, — "  I'll  give  you  a  bit  of  advice.  The  animal 
is  dangerous !  I  know  the  kind !  " 

"  Words  —  words !  "  said  Sassoon,  his  wandering 


\ 

\    24  THE  SALAMANDER 

\ 

eye  flitting  a  moment  to  the  group.     "  We  manage 

him  very  well." 

"If  you  could  dangle  the  prospect  of  a  title  before 
his  eyes,"  said  the  count,  with  a  sardonic  smile.  "  But 
you  —  what  have  you  to  offer  him  ?  " 

"  Money !  "  said  Sassoon  indifferently.  "  We  make 
him  a  partner  in  our  operations.  He  won't  attack 
us!" 

"  He  will  use  you ! "  said  De  Joncy  shrewdly. 
"  That  type  doesn't  love  money !  When  he  gets 
as  much  as  he  wants,  beware!  Do  you  receive 
him?" 

"  Oh,  we  invite  him  to  half  a  dozen  of  these  af- 
fairs," said  Sassoon,  without  looking  at  his  com- 
panion and  speaking  as  if  his  mind  were  elsewhere. 
"  That  keeps  him  to  generalizations !  " 

This  word,  which  was  afterward  repeated,  and 
reaching  the  ears  of  Harrigan  Blood,  made  of  him  an 
overt  enemy,  made  the  Comte  de  Joncy  smile. 

"  I  see  you,  too,  have  •  your  diplomacy,"  he  said, 
studying  Sassoon  with  more  interest. 

"  Yes.  Generalizations  are  blank  cartridges :  they 
can  be  aimed  at  any  one,"  Sassoon  said,  without  ani- 
mation. He  ran  a  thin  forefinger  over  the  scarce 
mustache  that  mounted  in  a  W  from  the  full  upper 
lip.  Then,  raising  his  voice  a  little,  he  called  Busby: 

"  I  say,  Buzzy,  hurry  things  up  a  bit !  " 

Busby,  like  Ganymede  at  a  frown  from  Jove,  de- 
parted lightly  in  the  direction  of  the  ladies'  dressing- 
room. 

"  It's  Buzzy,  my  darlings,"  he  said,  sticking  in  his 


THE  SALAMANDER  25 

beaky  nose  and  wide  grinning  mouth.  "  You've 
prinked  enough ;  I'm  coming  in !  " 

He  was  immediately  surrounded  and  assailed  with 
exclamations : 

"  Oh,  Buzzy !  why  didn't  you  tell  us !  " 

"A  Royal  Highness!" 

"  Mean  thing !  —  not  to  warn  us !  " 

"What  d'ye  call  His  Nibs?" 

"We're  tickled  to  death!" 

"  Don't  suffocate  me,  sweethearts,"  said  Busby,  de- 
fending himself.  "  I  didn't  tell  you  for  a  damn  good 
reason.  No  press-agent  stunts  before  or  after.  Un- 
derstand ?  Besides,  the  papers  are  bottled  up  —  demo- 
cratic respect  for  His  Highness." 

"  I've  a  mind  to  have  appendicitis,"  said  one  in  a 
whisper  to  a  companion.  "  Gee !  What  a  chance !  " 

"If  you  do,  Consuelo,  dear,"  said  Busby  urbanely, 
"  we'll  ship  you  down  in  a  service  elevator,  and  see 
you  get  the  operation,  too.  Now,  no  nonsense,  girls. 
You  know  what  that  means." 

"  What  we've  got  to  keep  it  out  of  the  poipers  ? 
What,  no  publicity  ?  Gee !  " 

"  None,  now  or  after,"  said  Busby  firmly. 

All  at  once  he  looked  up,  astonished,  perceiving 
Dore,  who  floated  in  at  this  moment  like  a  golden 
bird. 

"  Gwendolyn  had  the  sneezes,"  said  Adele  Vickers 
hastily.  "  This  is  her  sister." 

"  What's  her  name  ? "  said  Busby  suspiciously, 
while  the  chorus  girls,  with  their  mountainous  hats 
and  sweeping  feathers,  their  overloaded  bodices  and 


26  THE  SALAMANDER 

jeweled  necks,  studied  with  some  concern  the  simple 
daring  of  this  new  arrival,  uncertain  and  apprehensive. 

"  Miss  Baxter,"  said  Miss  Vickers  in  a  low  voice. 

"  She's  not  a  reporter  ?  "  said  Busby,  hesitating. 

"  Honest  to  God,  Buzzy,"  said  Adele  Vickers 
vehemently.  "  She's  on  the  stage,  the  legitimate  — 
Dore  Baxter,  a  friend  of  mine !  " 

"I  know  her!"  said  Busby,  suddenly  enlightened 
by  the  full  name,  and  going  to  her,  he  said :  "  Met 
you  at  a  party  of  Bruce  Gunther's,  I  believe,  Miss 
Baxter." 

Dore,  who  thus  found  herself,  to  her  vexation,  sail- 
ing under  her  own  colors,  said,  with  a  pleading  look  : 

"Don't  give  me  away,  will  you?  It's  just  a  lark, 
and,"  she  added  lower,  "  don't  call  me  Miss  Baxter!  " 

"  A  stage  name,  eh  ?  " 

"  Splendid  one  —  Trixie  Tennyson.  Doesn't  that 
sound  like  a  head-liner?"  she  added  confidentially,  in- 
the  low  tone  in  which  the  conversation  had  been  con- 
ducted. 

Busby  repeated  the  name,  chuckling  to  himself, 
yielding  to  his  sense  of  humor.  "  All  right !  Now, 
girls,  come  on !  " 

"  But  what  shall  we  call  him  ?  " 

"  Call  him  anything  you  like  .  .  .  after  the  soup !  " 
said  Busby,  laughing.  "  Remember !  he's  here  to  be 
amused!  .  .  .  Have  any  of  you  girls  changed  your 
names  since  I  saw  you  last?  .  .  .  No?  .  .  .  Then  I 
know  them!  .  .  ."  He  told  them  off,  counting  with 
his  fingers :  Adele  Vickers,  Georgie  Gwynne  —  it 
used  to  be  Bronson  last  year — " 


THE  SALAMANDER  27 

"  It  never  was ! "  exclaimed  a  petite  Irish  brunette, 
with  a  saucy  smile  and  a  roguish  eye :  "  Baron  — " 

"  I'll  give  you  a  better  one :  Georgie  Washing- 
ton!" continued  Busby.  "Why  not?  Fine!  ...  A 
press-agent  would  charge  for  that!  ...  I  see  an  inch 
of  nose,  a  gray  eye  and  a  brown  cheek  under  an  ava- 
lanche of  hat  —  must  be  Viola  Pax !  " 

"  Violetta,  please ! "  said  a  southern  type  with  soft 
consonants. 

"  To  be  sure !  ...  to  be  sure !  .  .  .  Both  are  up- 
to-date,  though!  .  .  .  Trixie  Tennyson  ...  ah, 
there's  a  name!  .  .  .  Do  you  know  who  Tennyson 
was,  little  dears?  ...  A  great  scientist  who  discov- 
ered the  reason  why  brooks  go  on  forever !  "  Adele 
and  Dore  smiled,  but  the  rest  accepted  the  informa- 
tion. "  Paula  Stuart  and  Consuelo  .  .  .  dear  me ! 
I  never  did  know  your  last  name,  Consuelo,  dar- 
ling!" 

"  Vincent !  and  cut  out  the  guying !  "  said  a  fair 
buxom  type,  child  of  the  Rialto.  "  Let's  get  a  move 
on!" 

"  Quite  right !  "  said  Busby,  offering  an  arm  to  Adele 
Vickers  and  Violetta  Pax.  "  Follow  me  ...  al- 
ways !  " 

The  dressing-room  emptied  itself,  with  a  last 
struggle  for  the  mirror,  a  few  hurried  applications 
of  rouge,  and  a  loosening  of  perfumes,  while,  above 
the  pleasant  rustle  of  skirts,  the  voice  of  Georgie 
Gwynne  was  heard  in  a  stage  whisper: 

"  Remember,  girls !     Act  refined !  " 

Consuelo  Vincent,  under  pretext  of  a  cold,  insisted 


28  THE  SALAMANDER 

on  keeping  a  magnificent  sable  cape,  which  she  shifted 
constantly  the  better  to  display  it. 

On  perceiving  Busby  arriving  with  this  bouquet  of 
vermilion  smiles,  polished  teeth  and  flashing  eyes,  the 
Comte  de  Joncy,  who  had  begun  to  be  restless  under 
the  strain  of  serious  conversation,  brightened 
visibly,  and  holding  out  both  hands,  exclaimed  with 
the  practised  familiarity  of  a  patron  of  all  the 
arts: 

"Why  you  make  me  wait  so  long?  Jolis  petits 
amours!  Ah,  she  is  charming,  this  one.  What  a 
naughty  little  eye !  Oho !  something  Spanish  —  do 
you  dance  the  Bolero?  Ah,  but  each  is  perfect  — 
adorable !  I  could  eat  every  one  of  them !  " 

But  to  this  royal  affability  the  ladies  of  the  chorus, 
very  stiff,  very  correct,  lisping  a  little,  made  answer: 

"  Pleased  to  meet  you,  I'm  sure !  " 

"  It's  quite  an  unexpected  pleasure !  " 

"  Indeed,  most  glad  to  meet  you !  " 

The  introductions  continued,  and  presently  the  room 
resounded  with  such  phrases  as  these: 

"  I  hope  we're  not  terribly  late !  .  .  .  New  York 
streets  are  so  crowded !  " 

"Delightful  weather,  don't  you  think?" 

"  What  a  charming  view !  .  .  .  I  dote  on  views, 
don't  you  ?  " 

"  Have  you  seen  Peleas  and  Melisande?  " 

And  Georgie  Gwynne,  picking  her  words  with  diffi- 
culty, was  remarking  to  Harrigan  Blood : 

"  You're  such  a  celebrity,  Mr.  Blood !  .  .  .  I'm  tick 
.  .  .  I'm  delighted  to  know  you !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  29 

The  Comte  de  Joncy,  overcome  by  this  flood  of 
manners,  said  to  his  host: 

"  The  devil,  mon  cher  Sassoon,  they  overawe  me ! 
You  are  sure  it  is  no  mistake  ?  It  is  not  some  of  your 
dreadful  wives  ?  " 

"Wait!"  said  Sassoon,  raising  a  finger. 

Busby,  who  knew  their  ways,  arrived  with  a  tray 
of  cocktails,  scolding  them  like  a  stage-manager: 

"  Now,  girls  —  girls !  Unbend !  Warm  up,  or  His 
Highness  will  catch  a  cold!  Come  on,  Consuelo, 
you've  aired  your  furs  enough ;  send  them  back  —  you 
give  us  a  chill!  This  will  never  do!  Now  perk  up, 
girls,  do  perk  up!  " 

Dore  took  the  cocktail  offered,  and  profiting  by  the 
stir,  emptied  it  quickly  behind  her  in  the  roots  of  a 
glowing  orange  tree.  She  raised  her  eyes  suddenly 
to  Massingale's.  He  had  detected  the  movement,  and 
was  smiling.  She  made  a  quick,  half -checked  gesture 
of  her  arm,  imploring  his  confidence,  as,  amused,  he 
came  to  her  side. 

"  What  a  charming  name,  Miss  Tennyson,"  he  said, 
without  reference  to  what  he  had  seen.  "  Are  you 
related?" 

She  understood  that  he  would  not  betray  her. 

"  Alfred's  a  sort  of  distant  cousin,"  she  said  with 
a  lisp,  affecting  a  mannerism  of  the  shoulders.  "  Of 
course,  I  haven't  kept  my  full  name  —  my  full  name 
is  Rowena  Robsart  Tennyson;  but  that  wouldn't  do 
for  the  stage,  would  it?  Trixie  —  Trixie  Tenny- 
son is  chicker,  don't  you  think?" 

"Is  what?" 


30  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Chicker  —  French,  you  know !  " 

"  Ah,  more  chic,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  steadily 
with  a  little  lurking  mockery  in  the  corners  of  his 
eyes. 

"  I'm  not  fooling  him/'  she  said  to  herself,  im- 
pressed by  the  steadiness  of  his  judicial  look,  half 
inquisitorial,  half  amused.  Nevertheless,  she  con- 
tinued with  a  mincing  imitation  of  Violetta  Pax,  who 
could  be  heard  discoursing  on  art. 

"  What  charming  weather !  Do  you  like  our  show  ? 
Have  you  seen  it  ?  " 

"Yes  —  have  you?"  he  said,  with  malice  in  his 
eyes. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know !  " 

"  I  understood  you  came  in  place  of  your  sister. 
Did  you  forget  ?  " 

She  glanced  at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye, 
knowing  the  comedy  useless,  but  continuing  it.  She 
was  easily  impressed,  especially  at  a  first  meeting, 
and  she  had  a  feeling  that  to  be  a  judge  one  must  know 
all,  see  through  every  subterfuge. 

"  'Course-  I've  only  been  in  the  sextette  a  couple 
of  nights." 

"'And  what  is  your  ambition?     Tragedy?" 

"  Oh,  no ! "  she  said,  with  an  important  seriousness. 
"I  don't  think  tragedy's  in  my  complexion,  do  you? 
I  dote  on  comedy,  though;  I'd  like  to  be  a  Maude 
Adams  s-some  day." 

"  So  you  are  serious?  "  he  said  gravely. 

"Oh,  much  so — 'course,  I  don't  know.     I  haven't 


THE  SALAMANDER  31 

any  prejudices  against  marriage,"  she  continued,  al- 
lowing her  great  blue  troubling  eyes  to  remain  on  his. 
"  I  sometimes  think  I'd  like  to  go  to  London  and 
marry  into  the  English  aristocracy." 

He  bit  his  lips  to  keep  from  laughing. 

"  Society  is  so  narrow  here  —  there's  more  oppor- 
tunity abroad,  don't  you  think?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  considering  her  fixedly,  plainly 
intrigued. 

She  moved  into  the  embrasure  of  a  window  with 
a  defensive  movement. 

"The  view's  quite  wonderful,  isn't  it?" 

They  were  on  the  fifteenth  floor,  with  a  clear  sweep 
of  the  lower  city.  He  moved  to  her  side,  looking  out 
gravely,  impressed  as  one  who  reads  beneath  the  sur- 
face of  things.  From  the  window  the  spectacle  of  the 
city  below  them  irrevocably  rooted  to  the  soil,  caged  in 
the  full  tide  of  labor,  gave  an  exquisite  sense  of  luxury 
to  this  banquet  among  the  clouds.  To  the  south  a 
light  bank  of  fog,  low  and  spreading,  was  eating  up 
the  horizon  of  water  and  distant  shore,  magnifying1 
the  checkered  chart  of  the  city  as  it  closed  about  it. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  world  were  there,  the  world 
of  toil,  marching  endlessly,  regimented  into  squares, 
chained  to  the  bitter  gods  of  necessity  and  the  com- 
monplace. 

"  It  gives  you  the  true  feeling  of  splendor,"  he 
said.  "  The  world  does  not  change.  We  might  be 
on  the  Hanging  Gardens  of  Babylon."  He  continued, 
his  eyes  lit  up  by  a  flash  of  imagination  that  revealed 
the  youth  still  in  his  features :  "  It  is  Babylon,  As- 


32  THE  SALAMANDER 

syria,  Egypt.  The  Pyramids  were  raised  thus,  man 
in  terms  of  a  thousand,  harnessed  and  whipped,  while 
a  few  looked  down  and  enjoyed." 

She  forgot  the  part  she  had  assumed,  keenly  re- 
sponsive. Her  mind,  still  neglected,  was  not  without 
perceptions,  ready  to  be  awakened  to  imagination. 
She  saw  as  he  saw,  feeling  more  deeply. 

She  extended  her  hand  toward  the  Egyptian  hordes 
beneath  them,  looking  at  him  curiously. 

"And  that  interests  you?" 

"  Both  interest  me.  That  and  this.  Everything 
is  interesting,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that  comprehended 
her.  "  Especially  you  and  your  motive." 

"  You  know  I'm-  not  one  of  — "  she  began  abruptly. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  good-humo redly,  and  in 
his  eyes  was  the  same  look  of  delighted  malice  that 
had  brought  him  to  her. 

"  You  needn't  explain.  Your  manner  was  perfect. 
I  quite  understand  you  —  much  better  than  you  be- 
lieve." 

He  moved  forward,  joining  the  movement  into  the 
dining-room.  She  followed,  watching  him  covertly, 
enveloped  still  by  his  unusual  personality. 

As  the  chorus  girls  still  persisted  in  their  display 
of  mannered  stateliness,  the  men  listened  to  Harrigan 
Blood,  who  had  begun  to  coin  ideas. 

"  Count,  here  you  have  America  in  a  thimble." 
He  elevated  his  second  cocktail,  speaking  in  the  slightly 
raised  tone  of  one  who  is  accustomed  to  the  attention 
of  all  listeners.  "  Your  Frenchman  takes  an  after- 
noon sipping  himself  into  gaiety;  your  German  be- 


THE  SALAMANDER  33 

gins  to  sing  only  when  he  has  drunk  up  a  river  of  beer ; 
but  your  American  —  he's  different!  What  do  we 
do?  We've  won  or  we've  lost  —  we've  got  to  re- 
joice or  forget  —  it's  all  the  same.  We  bolt  to  a  bar 
and  cry :  '  Tom,  throw  something  into  me  that'll  ex- 
plode ! '  And  he  hands  us  a  cocktail !  Here's 
America:  a  hundred  millions  in  a  generation,  a  cen- 
tury's progress  in  a  decade  —  the  future  to-morrow, 

and  a  change  of  mood  in  a  second !  " 

. 
He  ended,  swallowing  his  drink  in  a  gulp.     Like 

most  mad  geniuses  of  the  press,  he  drank  enormously, 
feeding  thus  the  brain  that  he  punished  without  mercy. 

Busby,  who  peddled  epigrams,  murmured  to  him- 
self with  a  view  to  future  authorship,  "  A  cocktail  is 
an  explosion  of  spirits ;  a  cocktail  .  .  ." 

The  chorus  girls,  who  regarded  Harrigan  Blood  as 
a  sort  of  demigod  who  could  make  a  reputation  with 
a  stroke  of  his  pen,  acclaimed  this  sally  with  exag- 
gerated delight.  The  party  crowded  into  the  dining- 
room,  seeking  their  places. 


CHAPTER  III 

DOR£  found  herself  between  Judge  Massingale 
and  Lindaberry,  Harrigan  Blood  opposite  be- 
tween Georgie  Gwynne  and  Violetta  Pax.  Sassoon 
was  at  the  farther  end,  opposite  Lindaberry,  with 
Adele  Vickers  and  Busby  to  his  right,  and  Paula 
Stuart  and  the  Comte  de  Joncy  on  his  left,  Consuelo 
Vincent  sharing  the  noble  guest,  with  Massingale  next 
to  her. 

Beside  each  feminine  plate  a  bouquet  of  orchids 
and  yellow  pansies,  daintily  blended,  was  waiting,  and 
from  the  loosely  bound  stems  the  edge  of  a  bank-note 
showed  —  a  slit  of  indecipherable  green. 

Immediately  there  was  a  murmur  of  voices,  a  quick 
outstretching  of  hands,  and  a  sudden  careful  pinning 
on  to  waists,  while  each  glance  affected  unconscious- 
ness of  what  it  had  detected.  Dore  did  not  imitate 
the  others.  Her  eye,  too,  had  immediately  caught  the 
disclosed  corner.  She  contrived,  while  folding  her 
gloves,  to  turn  the  bouquet  slightly,  so  that  no  trace 
of  what  it  contained  showed.  Then,  when  the  op- 
portunity came,  she  examined  the  faces  of  the  men. 
So  quickly  had  the  flowers  been  transferred  to  the 
bodices  that  the  male  portion  remained  in  ignorance. 
Massingale  was  too  close  to  her  to  be  sure  of.  Had 
his  quick  eye  detected  what  the  others  had  missed? 

34 


THE  SALAMANDER  35 

To  refuse  the  bouquet  meant  to  bring  down  on  her 
head  a  torrent  of  explanations ;  ignorance  were  better. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  hollow  pause.  The 
caviar  had  just  been  served,  and  the  chorus  girls, 
watching  for  a  precedent,  were  in  a  quandary  be- 
tween a  fork  which  inclined  to  a  knife,  and  a  fork 
tHat  was  a  tortured  spoon.  But  Georgie  Gwynne,  too 
long  repressed,  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  hell !  Buzzy,  tell  us  the  club." 

This  remark,  and  the  roar  with  which  is  was  greeted, 
dispelled  at  once  the  gloom  that  had  settled  about  the 
Royal  Observer.  The  chorus  girls,  unbending,  be- 
gan to  talk  American  —  all  at  once,  chattering,  gestur- 
ing. Dore  profited  by  the  moment  to  affix  the  bouquet 
among  the  orchids  she  already  wore.  The  success  of 
Georgie  Gwynne's  ice-breaking  was  such  that  the 
Comte  de  Joncy,  charmed  by  such  naturalness,  wished 
to  invite  her  to  his  side ;  but,  amid  protests,  it  was  de- 
cided, on  a  happy  motion  of  Busby's,  that  the  guests 
should  rotate  after  each  course. 

"  Sorry  it's  so,"  said  Massingale,  turning;  "  I  shall 
lose  you ! " 

"  Oh,  now  you  know  I'm  a  counterfeit,"  Dodo  said 
maliciously,  "  I  shall  spoil  your  fun.  Never  mind ;  I 
promise  to  go  early !  " 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  said,  by  way  of  answer. 

"  Trixie  Tennyson !  " 

"  I've  half  a  mind  to  denounce  you !  " 

"  Oh,  Your  Honor,  you  wouldn't  do  that !  " 

"  So  you  won't  tell  me  who  you  are?  " 

"  It'll  be  so  much  more  fun  for  you  to  find  out !  " 


36  THE  SALAMANDER 

She  listened  to  him  with  her  head  set  a  little  to  one 
side.  She  rarely  gave  the  full  of  her  face,  keeping 
always  about  her  a  subtle  touch  of  evasion. 

"  I  know  her  kind  well,"  he  had  said  to  himself. 
But  he  continued  to  watch  her  intently,  interested  in 
that  innate  sense  of  the  shades  of  coquetry  she  dis- 
played in  the  lingering  slanted  glances,  and  the  eerie 
smile  which  gathered  from  the  malicious  corners  of 
her  eyes,  slipping  down  the  curved  cheek  to  play  a 
moment  about  her  lips. 

"Why  did  you  come?"  he  said,  wishing  that  she 
would  turn  toward  him. 

"Curiosity!" 

"Precipices?" 

She  turned  to  him,  genuine  surprise  in  the  blue 
clouded  eyes,  her  rosy  lips  parted  in  amazement. 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"It  wasn't  difficult!" 

"  You're  uncanny !  " 

His  sense  of  divination  had  so  startled  her  that 
she  turned  from  him  a  moment,  wondering  what  at- 
titude to  assume.  While  feigning  to  listen  to  the 
declaiming  of  Harrigan  Blood,  she  took  every  op- 
portunity to  study  him.  Massingale,  scarcely  forty, 
had  an  intellectual  aristocracy  about  him  that  lay  in 
the  impersonality  of  his  amused  study  of  others.  Yet 
in  this  scrutiny  there  was  no  accent  of  criticism.  His 
lips  were  relaxed  in  a  tolerant  humor,  and  this  smile 
puzzled  her.  Was  he  also  of  this  company  who  sought 
amusement  in  a  descent  to  other  levels,  or  was  he 
simply  an  observer,  a  man  who  had  ended  a  phase  of 


THE  SALAMANDER  37 

life,  but  who  still  delighted  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  ridiculous,  the  grotesque  and  the  absurdity  of 
these  petty  contests  of  wits?  She  was  aware  that  he 
had  attacked  her  imagination  in  a  way  no  man  had 
tried  before,  and  this  presumption  awoke  an  instant 
spirit  of  resistance.  She  stole  a  glance  from  time  to 
time  in  the  mirror,  but  she  avoided  opportunities  for 
conversation. 

From  the  farther  end  of  the  table  she  beheld  the 
guest  of  the  day  radiating  happiness  under  a  storm 
of  questions-  from  the  chorus  girls : 

"  Perfectly  horrid  of  you  to  call  yourself  count ! " 

"  Count,  lord,  I've  got  a  string  of  'em !  " 

"  Barons;" 

"  Dukes,  too.  I  know  Duke  of  What's-His-Name 
Biscay.  He's  a  nice  boy !  Do  you  know  him?  " 

And  Georgie  Gwynne,  flushed  with  her  first  success, 
said  to  Harrigan  Blood,  in  a  permeating  aside : 

"When  I  get  to  His  Nibs,  watch  what  I'll  hand 
him!" 

But  Harrigan  Blood,  absorbed  in  an  idea,  answered 
her: 

"  Be  quiet  now,  Georgie  —  gorge  yourself !  " 

"Composing  an  editorial  on  luxury,  Harrigan?" 
said  Lindaberry,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 

Harrigan  Blood  admitted  the  patness  of  the  guess 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  leaning  heavily  on  the  table 
with  his  elbows.  He  had  always  an  air  of  being  in 
his  shirt-sleeves. 

"  See  the  Free  Press  to-morrow,"  he  said,  moving 
his  large  hand  over  his  face  and  frowning  spasmod- 


38  THE  SALAMANDER 

ically.  His  eye  ran  quickly  over  the  menu,  calculat- 
ing the  cost  per  plate,  the  value  of  the  rare  wines,  the 
decorations,  the  presents  and  the  tips.  "  Two  thou- 
sand dollars  at  the  least  —  four  thousand  dinners  be- 
low Fourteenth  Street,  five  years  abroad  for  a  genius 
who  is  stifling,  twenty  thousand  tired  laborers  to  a 
moving-picture  show.  And  with  what  we  turn  over 
with  our  fork  and  regret,  the  waste  that  will  be  thrown 
away,  a  family  could  live  a  year !  This  is  civilization 
and  Christianity !  " 

"  Appetite  good,  Harrigan  ?  "  said  Lindaberry,  with 
an  impertinence  that  few  would  have  ventured. 

"  Better  than  yours,"  said  Blood  impatiently. 
"  Ideas  and  personalities  have  no  connection.  Ends 
are  one  thing,  instruments  another.  Who  was  the 
greatest  of  the  disciples?  St.  Paul.  He  had  ex- 
perienced I  Shakespeare  —  Tolstoy.  The  caviar  is 
delicious ! " 

In  his  attitude  he  felt  no  hypocrisy.  He  looked 
upon  himself  as  a  machine,  to  be  fed  and  to  be  kept 
in  order  by  sensations  —  experiences :  a  privileged  na- 
ture dedicated  passionately  to  ideal  ends.  For  the 
rest,  his  contempt  for  mankind  in  the  present  was 
profound.  He  had  conquered  success  early,  but  he 
retained  an  abiding  bitterness  against  the  world  which 
had  misunderstood  him  and  forced  him  a  short  period 
to  wait. 

"  And  this  is  Harrigan  Blood !  "  Dore  thought, 
wondering.  Another  day  flashed  before  her  —  two 
years  old  —  when,  just  arrived,  a  despairing  claimant, 
she  had  pleaded  in  vain  for  opportunity  in  the  great 


THE  SALAMANDER  39 

soul-crushing  offices  of  the  Free  Press.  The  sport  of 
fate  had  flung  her  a  chance,  and  watching  Harrigan 
Blood  from  the  malicious  corners  of  her  busy  eyes, 
she  planned  her  revenge. 

Lindaberry  had  not  as  yet  addressed  a  single  word 
to  her.  He  had  gradually  come  out  of  the  stolid  dull 
intensity  that  had  lain  on  him  with  the  weight  of 
last  night's  dissipation,  but  one  felt  in  the  awakening 
vivacity  of  his  eye,  the  impatient  opening  and  shutting 
of  his  hand,  the  quick  smile  that  followed  each  out- 
burst of  laughter,  a  struggle  to  reach  the  extreme 
of  gaiety  which  such  a  company  brought  him  to  relieve 
him  from  that  depression  which  closed  over  him  when 
condemned  to  be  alone. 

For  her  part,  she  had  scarcely  noticed  him  —  having 
a  horror  of  men  who  drank.  At  this  moment  a  butler, 
under  orders  from  Busby,  placed  before  him  a  bottle 
of  champagne  for  his  special  use.  He  turned  cour- 
teously but  impersonally,  without  that  masculine  im- 
pertinence in  the  eye  which  is  still  a  compliment. 

"  May  I  freshen  up  your  glass  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  no !  "  she  said  icily.  "  I'm  afraid  I 
don't  appreciate  your  special  brand  of  conversation ! " 

He  looked  at  her,  startled  —  her  meaning  gradually 
dawning  on  him.  But,  before  he  could  reply,  Busby 
had  risen,  sounding  his  knife  against  his  plate. 

"  Next  course,  ladies  will  please  chasse !  Gentlemen, 
make  sure  of  your  jewelry!  " 

Dore  rose,  and,  as  she  did  so,  addressing  the  butler 
who  drew  out  her  chair,  said : 

"  In  order  that  Mr,  Lindaberry  may  feel  quite  at 


40 

home,  do  please  place  a  bottle  on  each  side  of 
him!" 

She  made  him  an  abrupt  mocking  bow,  and  went 
to  her  place  past  Massingale,  next  to  the  Comte  de 
Joncy,  while  Lindaberry,  flushing,  was  left  as  best  he 
could  to  face  the  laughter  and  clapping  of  hands  that 
greeted  her  sally. 

The  Comte  de  Joncy  had  risen  courteously,  study- 
ing her  keenly  from  his  pocketed,  watery  blue  eyes, 
seating  her  with  marked  ceremony,  too  keen  an  ama- 
teur of  the  sex  not  to  feel  a  difference  in  her. 

"Bravo!"  he  said,  laughing,  and  in  a  confidential 
tone :  "  Madame  de  Stae'l  could  not  have  answered 
better!" 

The  allusion  was  not  in  her  ken,  but  she  felt  the 
compliment. 

"Are  you  what?  Wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,  or 
sheep  — " 

"  Beware !  "  she  said  maliciously,  converting  a  fork 
into  a  weapon  of  attack.  "  I  am  a  desperate  adven- 
turess who  has  taken  this  way  to  meet  Your  High- 
ness!" 

"  If  it  were  only  true!  "  he  said,  looking  questions. 

"Why  not?"  The  game  amused  her,  and  besides, 
something  perversely  incited  her  to  recklessness. 
Massingale  was  on  the  other  side  of  her  —  Massin- 
gale, who,  after  the  impudence  of  having  compre- 
hended her,  treated  her  with  only  tepid  interest. 
"  Where  shall  I  follow  you  ?  Paris  or  Dresden  ?  " 

He  stared  at  her  with  squinting  eyes,  not  quite  de- 
ceived, not  quite  convinced.  At  the  end  he  laughed, 


THE  SALAMANDER  41 

"  Pretty  good  —  almost  you  fool  me !  " 

"You  don't  believe  me?"  she  said,  raising  her 
eyes  a  moment  to  his. 

"  Mademoiselle,  your  eyes  have  a  million  in  each  of 
them !  "  he  said,  after  a  moment,  but  not  quite  so 
calmly.  "  Will  you  give  me  your  address  ?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  she  said,  opening  her  hands  in  a  ges- 
ture of  surprise. 

"  I  will  come!  "  he  said,  yet  not  entirely  the  dupe  of 
her  game. 

"  Poor  Count !  "  she  said,  with  a  quick  change  of 
manner.  "  You  don't  know  what  a  dangerous  animal 
we  have  here.  Beware !  " 

"What?" 

"  The  great  American  teaser !  "  she  said,  laughing. 

"  Teaser  —  teaser !     What  is  that  ?  " 

She  entered  into  an  elaborate  explanation,  glancing 
into  the  mirror,  striving  from  there  to  catch  Massin- 
gale's  look. 

"  I  say,  angels !  "  said  Buzzy,  bubbling  over  with 
mischief.  "  I've  got  an  idea !  " 

"  Buzzy  has  an  idea !  " 

"Good  for  Buzzy!" 

"  We  want  to  amuse  the  Count,  don't  we  ?  "  said 
Busby  artfully. 

"Sure!  .  .  ." 

"You  bet!  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  then,  let's  tell  our  real  names !  " 

Violetta  Pax  gave  a  scream  of  horror  and  retired 
blushing  under  her  napkin  at  the  storm  of  laughter 
her  scream  of  confession  had  aroused. 


42 

"Real  name's  Lou  Burgstadter !  "  said  Consuelo 
Vincent  in  a  whisper  to  De  Joncy,  who  had  forgot 
her. 

Violetta  Pax  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant. 

"  Consuelo  Vincent,  I  like  your  nerve !  .  .  .  Con- 
suelo, indeed !  Cassie  Hagan !  "  she  cried  furiously. 
"  Yes,  and  Carrie  Slater,  too,  needn't  put  on 
airs!" 

The  rest  was  lost  in  an  uproar ;  the  chorus  girls  were 
on  their  feet,  protesting  vigorously,  all  chattering  at 
once,  the  men  applauding  and  fomenting  the  tumult, 
Busby  secretly  enjoying  the  mischief  he  had  exploded, 
running  from  one  to  the  other,  pleading,  provoking, 
adding  fuel  to  the  burning. 

"  Ladies !  .  .  .  Ladies !  Remember  there  are  gen- 
tlemen present!  .  .  .  Georgie,  Violetta's  giving  you 
away!  .  .  .  Girls!  Girls!  Remember  His  Highness! 
.  .  .  Paula,  dear,  you  ought  to  hear  what  Georgie  said 
of  you!  Awful  .  .  .  awful  .  .  .  Now,  dearies,  be- 
have !  .  .  .  remember  your  manners !  " 

At  the  end  of  a  moment,  overcome  with  laughter,  he 
capsized  on  a  sofa  in  weak  hysterics.  Blood  ex- 
claimed that  Busby  had  a  fit,  and  thus  procured  a  di- 
version which  restored  calm.  Nevertheless,  the  storm 
had  been  so  sudden  that  the  wreckage  was  strewn 
about  the  room;  Busby  gathered  them  together  again, 
conciliated  every  one  and  brought  them  back  to  their 
seats. 

Dore  was  excited  by  this  outburst.  At  last  the 
party  promised  something  to  her  curiosity.  She 
waited  eagerly,  her  eyes  dancing,  her  fingers  thrum- 


THE  SALAMANDER  43 

ming  on  the  cloth,  curious  to  see  these  men,  of  whom 
she  had  heard  so  much,  unmask. 

While  continuing  her  banter  with  De  Joncy,  she  had 
turned  her  attention  to  Sassoon,  who,  in  the  midst  of 
the  hilarity,  preserved  the  fatigue  and  listlessness  of 
his  first  appearance,  a  smile  more  contemptuous  than 
amused  lurking  about  the  long  oriental  nose  and 
burnt-out  eyes  without  abiding  quite  anywhere.  He 
paid  no  attention  to  the  girls  at  either  side,  peering 
restlessly  at  those  farther  away,  dissatisfied,  unamused. 

His  reputation  was  of  the  worst,  his  name  bandied 
about  in  big  places  and  in  small ;  nor,  as  is  usually  the 
case,  did  gossip  bear  unmerited  reproaches.  Neither 
a  fool,  as  most  believed,  nor  of  originating  imagina- 
tion, as  a  few  credited  who  witnessed  from  the  inside 
the  shrewd  and  infallible  success  of  his  colossal 
schemes,  Sassoon  at  bottom  was  a  prey  to  an  obsession 
that  stung  him  like  a  gadfly  to  restless  seeking,  eter- 
nally tormented  by  the  fever  of  the  hunter,  eternally 
disillusioned.  For  thirty  years,  following  the  ex- 
igencies of  a  maladive  heredity,  he  had  raked  the  city 
with  his  craving  eye,  always  alert,  always  disappointed, 
running  into  dark  side  streets,  ringing  obscure  bells, 
pursuing  a  shadow  that  had  awakened  a  spark  of 
hope.  And  at  the  end  it  was  always  the  same  —  emp- 
tiness! To-day  he  sat  moodily,  fiercely  resentful  at 
a  fresh  deception. 

A  certain  disdainful  defiance,  a  trick  of  Violetta 
Pax,  fleeing,  bacchante-like,  in  the  sextette,  had  stirred 
in  him  a  flash  of  expectancy,  a  hungering  hope,  which 
had  died  in  hollowness  now  that  she  was  at  his  side, 


44  THE  SALAMANDER 

unresisting,  too  ready.  So  he  sat,  brooding,  heavy- 
lidded,  already  turning  to  other  fugitive  forms  that 
he  might  follow  in  a  vague  impulse  —  of  all  the 
millions  in  the  city  the  one  most  enslaved.  When,  in 
her  turn,  Dore  came  to  take  her  place  beside  him, 
after  the  first  listless  acknowledgment  he  spoke  no 
word  to  her.  She  responded  by  turning  her  back  to 
him  at  once,  with  a  complete  ignoring.  This  atti- 
tude, so  different  from  the  challenging  eyes  of  the 
others,  struck  him  —  he  who  craved  opposition,  re- 
sistance. All  at  once,  as  she  was  leaving  him  to  take 
her  place  between  Busby  and  Harrigan  Blood,  he 
said,  his  soft  hand  on  her  arm,  in  his  low,  rather 
melodious  feminine  voice: 

"  You  haven't  paid  much  attention  to  me,  pretty 
thing!" 

"  Your  own  fault,  Pasha !  "  she  said  impertinently. 
"  Men  run  after  me !  " 

And  she  was  aware  that  his  eye,  dead  as  a  cold 
lantern,  followed  her  now,  running  over  her  neck 
and  shoulders,  aroused  as  from  its  lethargy.  Satis- 
fied that  her  instinct  had  not  failed,  she  took  her  seat. 
Then,  all  at  once,  she  felt  a  new  annoyance:  Massin- 
gale,  the  observer,  was  smiling  to  himself. 

The  hilarity  began  to  freshen.  Consuelo  Vincent, 
who  had  magnificent  hair,  was  heard  exclaiming: 

"  I  say,  girls!  we're  stiff  as  a  bunch  of  undertakers. 
Let's  slip  our  roofs !  " 

Amid  general  acclaim,  the  top-lofty,  overburdened 
hats  were  consigned  to  a  butler.  Every  one  began 
to  chatter  on  a  higher  key,  across  the  constant  rise 


THE  SALAMANDER  45 

of  laughter.  Georgia  Gwynne,  installed  by  the  Royal 
Observer,  saucy  and  unabashed,  was  saying: 

"  Well,  Kink,  how  do  you  like  us?" 

In  another  moment  the  Comte  de  Joncy,  sublimely 
content,  was  being  initiated  into  the  art  of  eating 
brandied  cherries  from  the  ripe  lips  of  Violetta  Pax 
and  Georgie  Gwynne. 

From  the  moment  Dore  had  taken  off  her  toque, 
Sassoon  and  Harrigan  Blood  had  not  ceased  to  stare 
at  her. 

"  A  hat  is  not  becoming  to  me,"  she  said  to  Har- 
rigan Blood,  and  added :  "  Besides,  I  have  nothing  to 
conceal." 

Amid  the  pyramided  and  confectioned  head-dresses, 
the  simplicity  of  her  own,  playing  about  her  forehead 
like  a  golden  cloud,  stood  out.  For  the  first  time, 
her  youth  and  naturalness  appeared,  depending  on  no 
artifice. 

Harrigan  Blood  did  not  go  to  what  attracted  him 
by  four  ways,  or  around  a  hill. 

"  You  don't  belong  to  this  crowd,"  he  said  point- 
blank.  "  Don't  lie  to  me!  What  are  you?  " 

"The  story  of  my  life?"  she  said.  "It's  getting 
to  the  time,  isn't  it?" 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  he  said  roughly. 
"  People  don't  often  interest  me.  You  do !  I've  been 
watching  you.  Do  you  want  backing?" 

She  was  surprised  —  genuinely  so.  She  had  felt 
that  Blood  was  different  —  too  powerful,  too  merci- 
less, to  be  caught  as  other  men  were  caught.  She 
did  not  look  up  at  him,  as  others  would  have,  but 


46  THE  SALAMANDER 

remained  smiling  down  at  the  cloth,  running  her  mis- 
chievous fingers  through  the  low  dish  of  yellow 
pansies  before  her.  And,  with  the  same  averted  look, 
which  brought  her  a  complete  understanding  of  the 
impetuousness  of  his  attack,  she  felt  Sassoon's  awak- 
ened stare  and  the  scrutiny  of  Judge  Massingale,  who, 
while  he  pretended  to  talk  to  Paula  Stuart,  was  listen- 
ing with  a  concentrated  interest.  She  was  pleased, 
quite  satisfied  with  herself.  Only  Lindaberry  re- 
mained. 

"You  are  very  impulsive,  aren't  you?"  she  said 
slowly. 

"On  the  stage?     A  beginner?" 

She  nodded. 

"  Come  to  me  —  at  my  office,  any  afternoon,  after 
five."  And  he  added,  without  lowering  his  voice: 
"  If  you're  after  a  career,  don't  waste  your  time  on 
this  sort.  I  can  put  you  in  a  day  where  you  want." 

She  rose  to  take  her  seat  on  his  right,  next  to 
Lindaberry. 

"  Will  you  come?  "  he  said,  detaining  her. 

"Why  not?"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes,  with  a 
little  affectation  of  surprise  at  so  simple  a  question. 

During  her  progress  about  the  table  she  had  kept 
Lindaberry  in  mind,  with  a  lurking  sense  of  antag- 
onism, a  desire  to  return  to  the  attack,  to  punish  him 
further.  A  certain  grace  that  he  had,  which  appealed 
to  her  instinct,  the  quality  of  instinctive  elegance,  only 
increased  her  resentment.  At  the  bottom,  the  in- 
tensity of  this  resentment  surprised  her  —  without  her 
being  able  to  analyze  it. 


THE  SALAMANDER  47 

He  had  risen  with  a  bow  that  was  neither  exag- 
gerated nor  curt.  There  was  undeniable  power  in  his 
face,  boyish  and  weak  as  it  was  in  its  unrestraint, 
like  a  flame  spurting  fiercely  on  a  trembling  wick. 
He  brought  to  men  a  little  sense  of  fear  —  never  to 
women.  To-day  this  intensity  seemed  clouded,  not 
fully  awake  as  if  there  were  still  dinning  in  his  ears 
the  echoes  of  the  night  before.  The  dullest  observer, 
looking  on  his  face,  would  have  seen  where  he  was 
riding.  In  his  own  club  (where  he  was  adored)  bets 
were  up  that  he  would  not  last  the  year. 

Presently  he  leaned  toward  her  and  said,  pro- 
tected by  the  shrieks  of  laughter  that  surrounded  De 
Joncy : 

"  Don't  you  think  you  were  in  the  wrong?  What 
right  had  you  to  come  here?  " 

She  understood  that  Busby  had  betrayed  her  to 
him  and  to  Harrigan  Blood. 

"Even  if  I  were  a — "  she  gave  a  glance  up  the 
table,  "  you  should  make  a  difference  between  a  woman 
and  a  —  bottle!" 

'''  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said,  after  a  moment. 
"  Will  you  accept  my  apologies  ?  I  am  seldom  dis- 
courteous to  a  woman  —  never  intentionally." 

She  looked  at  him,  and  saw  with  what  an  effort  he 
spoke,  his  brain  on  fire,  yet  making  no  mistake  in  the 
precision  of  his  words.  She  nodded,  and  turned 
again  to  Harrigan  Blood,  all  her  nature  aroused  to 
opposition  at  this  weakness  in  such  a  man.  Yet  or- 
dinarily her  sympathies  were  quick. 

"  You  are  too  hard  on  him,"  said  Harrigan  Blood, 


48  THE  SALAMANDER 

who  had  listened.  "  It's  gone  too  far ;  he  can't  help 
it.  He's  got  his  coffin  strapped  to  his  back." 

"Why  doesn't  some  one  help  him?"  she  said  ir- 
ritably. 

Blood  shrugged  his  shoulders,  answering  with  the 
superiority  of  the  self-made  man  before  the  misfor- 
tune of  the  friend  who  has  thrown  everything  away: 

"  Help  him  ?  There's  your  feminism  again !  The 
world's  turned  crazy  on  sentimentalized  charity!' 
Charity  is  nothing  but  a  confession  of  failure!  Build 
up!  Let  derelicts  go!  Save  him?  For  what?  In 
New  York?  We  are  too  busy.  The  best  that  can  be 
said  is,  he's  drinking  himself  to  death  like  a  gentle- 
man —  doing  it  royally !  His  self-control's  a  miracle 
—  some  day  there'll  be  an  explosion!  If  you  knew 
his  history — " 

"What  is  his  story?" 

As  Blood  was  about  to  begin  it,  he  was  interrupted 
by  a  general  pushing  back  of  chairs.  Busby,  at  the 
piano,  flung  out  the  chords  of  the  sextette  that  had 
made  a  mediocre  opera  famous. 

Half  the  party  crowded,  laughing  and  bantering, 
to  render  the  chorus,  the  Comte  de  Joncy  insisting 
on  being  taught  the  latest  curious  American  dance. 
Tenafly  entered  to  see  to  the  clearing  of  the  room. 

He  was  the  type  of  the  valet  ennobled,  a  mask  of 
incomparable  vacuity,  a  secret  smile  that  missed  noth- 
ing, internal  rather  than  outward,  yet  still  chained  to 
the  servant's  habit  of  picking  up  his  feet. 

Sassoon  summoned  him  with  a  nod  which  Tenafly 
perceived  instantly  across  the  room. 


THE  SALAMANDER  49 

"  The  little  girl  in  yellow  —  who  is  she  ?  " 

The  eye  of  the  restaurateur  passed  vaguely  over 
the  company,  but  the  instant  sufficed  to  photograph 
each  detail. 

"  She's  new,"  he  said,  without  moving  his  lips. 

"She's  not  of  the  sextette?" 

Tenafly  shook  his  head. 

"  She's  dined  here  —  below  —  I've  seen  her !  " 

"  Know  her  name?  " 

Tenafly  searched  the  pigeonholes  of  his  memory. 

"  I  don't  know  her." 

"  Find  out  what  you  can  —  soon !  " 

"I  will,  sir!" 

He  spoke  a  moment  in  low  tones  with  the  master, 
who  had  no  evasions  with  him.  At  the  end  Sassoon 
said  impatiently: 

"  Can't  be  bothered  ...  see  her  for  me  and  get  a 
receipt." 

Every  one  wished  to  dance,  whirling  and  bumping, 
none  too  restrained  in  their  movements,  the  Royal  Ob- 
server awkwardly  enthusiastic,  enjoying  himself  im- 
moderately. Dore,  a  little  apart,  Harrigan  Blood  at  her 
side,  watched  with  eyes  keen  with  curiosity.  Busby, 
De  Joncy,  Lindaberry  amused  themselves  hugely, 
caricaturing  the  eccentricities  of  the  dance,  their  arms 
about  their  partners,  clinging,  bacchanalian,  in  their 
movements.  Dore  followed  Lindaberry,  frowning, 
feeling  a  blast  of  anger  that  set  her  sensitive  little 
nostrils  to  quivering  with  scorn.  The  feeling  was  un- 
reasonable. She  did  not  know  why  he  should  disturb 
her  more  than  another,  and  yet  he  did.  He  seemed 


'50  THE  SALAMANDER 

i 

so  incongruous  there;  she  could  not  associate  his  re- 
finement, his  courtesy,  with  Georgie  Gwynne,  who  held 
him  pressed  in  her  arms,  her  head  thrown  back,  her 
throat  bared,  laughing  provokingly.  She  had  come 
to  see  behind  the  scenes,  and  yet  this  one  roused  her 
fury.  Besides,  there  was  in  his  attitude  a  scornful 
note  —  a  contemptuous  valuation  of  the  woman,  of 
women  in  general,  she  felt,  as  if  he  were  thus  pro- 
claiming: "See,  this  is  all  they  are  worth!" 

She  began  to  glance  at  the  door,  counting  the 
minutes.  Judge  Massingale  came  to  her  side. 

"Dance?" 

"  I  turned  my  ankle  this  morning." 

"You  don't  want  to!" 

"No!" 

He  began  to  dance  with  Adele  Vickers,  but  not  as 
the  others,  not  with  the  same  immoderate  abandon. 
She  noted  this  swiftly. 

At  last,  in  a  pause  between  the  dances,  to  Dore's 
relief,  a  footman,  entering,  announced : 

"  Miss  Baxter's  car  is  waiting." 

It  was  an  effect  she  had  carefully  planned,  taking 
a  full  half -hour  to  lead  Stacey  Van  Loan  to  an  inno- 
cent participation.  A  group  came  up,  protesting,  ac- 
claiming the  discovery  of  her  name  —  as  she  had 
wished. 

"Oho!     Miss  Baxter,  is  it?" 

"  We  won't  let  you  go !  " 

"The  fun's  just  beginning!" 

"My  chauffeur  can  wait!"  said  Dore  superbly, 
perceiving  the  danger  of  an  open  retreat  before  this 


THE  SALAMANDER  '51 

over-excited  group.  Her  curiosity  was  satisfied. 
She  began  to  foresee  what  she  did  not  wish  to  wit- 
ness, ugliness  appearing  from  behind  the  carnival  mask 
of  laughter.  She  began  to  glance  apprehensively  at 
Harrigan  Blood,  who  clung  to  her  side,  wondering 
how  she  could  elude  him.  Then,  as  the  group  of  prot- 
estants  broke  up,  Sassoon,  advancing  deliberately,  in 
that  silken  effeminate  voice  that  expected  no  refusal, 
said  abruptly :  "  Miss  Baxter,  where  do  you  live  ?  " 

She  was  on  the  point  of  an  indignant  answer,  but 
suddenly  checked  herself.  She  gave  the  address,  but 
in  a  sharp  muffled  tone,  boiling  with  anger  within, 
with  a  quick  resolve  to  punish  him  later. 

"  When  are  you  in  ?  " 

Before  she  could  answer,  Harrigan  Blood  pushed 
forward,  determined  and  insolent. 

"  Too  late,  Sassoon,  my  boy ;  nothing  here  for 
you!" 

"  I  fail  to  understand  you,"  said  Sassoon. 

"  Don't  you?     Well,  I'll  make  it  plainer!  " 

"  You'll  kindly  not  interfere." 

"  And  I'll  thank  you  not  to  trespass !  " 

"What?" 

"  Don't  trespass !  " 

Sassoon  responded  angrily ;  Harrigan  Blood  retorted 
with  equal  heat.  In  a  moment  the  room  was  in  an 
uproar. 

Dore  seized  the  confusion  of  the  hubbub  to  slip  from 
the  group  which  rushed  in  to  separate  these  two 
men  whom  a  glance  from  a  little  Salamander  had 
turned  back  into  the  raw. 


52 

She  went  quickly,  frightened  by  the  sounds  of  anger 
and  the  increasing  uproar,  flung  into  her  furs,  and 
stole  toward  the  door. 

All  at  once  it  opened  before  her,  and  in  the  hall 
was  Lindaberry,  roguishly  ambushed. 

"  No,  no  —  not  so  fast !  "  he  cried. 

He  flung  out  his  arm,  barring  the  way.  For  a 
moment  she  was  frightened,  seeing  what  was  in  his 
eyes,  hearing  the  tumult  in  the  salon  behind.  Then, 
without  drawing  back,  she  raised  her  hand  gently, 
and  put  his  arm  away. 

"  Please,  Mr.  Lindaberry,  protect  me !  I  need  it ! 
I  ought  not  to  be  here." 

"What?"  he  said,  staring  at  her. 

"  I'm  a  crazy  little  fool ! "  she  said  frantically. 
"  Help  me  to  get  away !  " 

"  Crazy  little  child ! "  he  said,  after  staring  a  mo- 
ment as  if  suddenly  recognizing  her.  "  Get  away, 
then  —  quickly !  " 

She  felt  no  more  resentment,  only  a  great  pity,  such 
as  one  feels  before  a  magnificent  ruin.  She  wished  to 
stop  to  speak  to  him  —  but  she  was  afraid. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  with  a  look  that  appealed 
to  him  not  to  judge  her.  "  I  am  crazy  —  out  of  my 
mind !  Come  and  see  me  —  do !  " 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  faithful  Stacey  was  below,  lounging  at  the 
door  of  the  grill-room,  as  she  came  tripping 
down,  the  sensation  of  escape  sparkling  on  her  deli- 
cate features.  She  was  so  delighted  at  the  effect  he 
had  achieved  for  her  that  she  gave  him  an  affectionate 
squeeze  of  the  arm. 

"  Stacey,  you're  a  darling!  When  the  footman  an- 
nounced '  Miss  Baxter's  car '  you  could  have  heard  a 
pin  drop  among  the  squillionairesses ! " 

Stacey  had  been  told,  and  dutifully  believed,  that 
the  luncheon  was  a  heavy  affair,  very  formal,  very 
correct. 

"I  say,  you  didn't  bore  yourself,  did  you?"  he 
said,  noticing  the  excitement  still  on  her  cheeks. 

"No,  no!" 

"Fifth  Avenue,  or  Broadway?" 

"  Fifth  first." 

"Bundle  up;  it's  turning  cold!" 

The  next  moment  the  car  had  found  a  wedge  in 
the  avenue,  and  Stacey,  solicitous,  relapsed  into  grati- 
fying silence. 

She  was  all  aquiver  with  excitement.  Her  little 
feet,  exhilarated  by  the  memories  of  music,  continued 
tapping  against  the  floor,  and  had  Stacey  turned  he 
would  have  been  surprised  at  the  mischievous,  gay 

53 


54  THE  SALAMANDER 

little  smile  that  constantly  rippled  and  broke  about 
her  lips.  Indeed,  she  was  delighted  with  her  suc- 
cess, with  the  discord  she  had  flung  between  Sassoon 
and  Harrigan  Blood.  She  could  scarcely  believe  that 
it  could  be  true. 

"  What !  I,  little  Dodo,  have  done  that !  "  she  said, 
addressing  herself  caressingly,  overjoyed  at  the  idea 
of  two  men  of  such  power  descending  to  a  quarrel 
over  a  little  imp  like  herself. 

She  had  no  illusions  about  these  flesh  hunters.  If 
she  had  given  Sassoon  her  address  instead  of  hotly 
refusing,  it  was  from  a  swift  vindictive  resolve  to  pun- 
ish him  unmercifully,  to  entice  him  into  fruitless  alleys, 
to  entangle  and  mock  him,  with  an  imperative  desire  to 
match  her  wits  against  his  power,  and  teach  him  re- 
spect through  discomfiture  and  humiliation.  Sassoon 
did  not  impress  her  with  any  sense  of  danger.  She 
rather  scoffed  at  him,  remembering  his  silken  voice, 
the  slight  feminine  touch  of  his  hand,  the  haunted 
dreamy  discontent  in  his  heavy  eyes. 

Harrigan  Blood  was  different.  In  her  profound 
education  of  a  Salamander,  she  knew  his  type,  too: 
the  man  without  preliminaries,  who  put  abrupt  ques- 
tions, brushing  aside  the  artifices  and  subtleties  that 
arrest  others.  She  would  make  no  mistake  with  hint 
—  knowing  just  how  little  to  venture.  And  yet,  al- 
ways prepared,  she  might  try  her  fingers  across  such 
hungry  flames.  Strangely  enough,  she  did  not  re- 
sent Harrigan  Blood  as  she  did  Sassoon;  for  men 
of  force  she  made  many  allowances. 

She  thought  of  Lindaberry  and  Judge  Massingale: 


"No,   no,   not    so    fast!" 


THE  SALAMANDER  55 

of  Lindaberry  rapidly,  with  a  beginning  of  pity,  but 
still  inflamed  with  an  irritation  at  this  magnificent 
spectacle  of  a  man  going  to  destruction  so  purpose- 
lessly. He,  of  all,  had  been  the  most  indifferent,  too 
absorbed  to  lift  his  eyes  and  study  what  sat  by  his 
side.  She  did  not  know  all  the  reasons  why  he  so 
antagonized  her,  nor  whence  these  reasons  came  .  .  . 
yet  the  feeling  persisted,  already  mingled  with  a  de- 
sire to  know  what  was  the  history  that  Harrigan  Blood 
had  started  to  tell.  Perhaps,  after  all,  there  may  have 
been  a  tragic  love-affair.  She  reflected  on  this  idea, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  if  it  were  so,  then  in  his  pres- 
ent madness  there  might  be  something  noble  .  .  . 
magnificent. 

"  How  stupid  a  mam  is  to  drink !  "  she  said  angrily. 

"  Eh?     What's  that,  Dodo?  "  said  Stacey. 

She  perceived  that,  in  her  absorption,  she  had 
spoken  half  aloud. 

"  Go  down  Forty-second  and  run  up  Broadway ! " 
she  said  hastily. 

Massingale  she  could  not  place.  She  comprehended 
the  others,  even  the  Comte  de  Joncy,  whom  she  had 
left  with  a  feeling  of  defrauded  expectation.  But 
Massingale  she  did  not  comprehend,  nor  did  she  see 
him  quite  clearly.  Why  was  he  there?  To  observe 
simply,  with  that  tolerant  baffling  smile  of  his  ?  What 
did  he  want  in  life?  Of  her?  He  had  been  inter- 
ested; he  had  even  tried  to  arouse  her  own  curiosity. 
She  was  certain  that  the  effort  had  been  conscious. 
Then  there  had  come  a  change  —  a  quiet  defensive 
turn  to  impersonality.  Tactics,  or  what? 


$6  THE  SALAMANDER 

What  impression  had  she  left?  Would  he  call,  or 
pass  on?  She  did  not  understand  him  at  all;  yet  he 
excited  her  strangely.  She  had  a  feeling  that  he 
would  be  too  strong  for  her.  She  had  felt  in  him, 
each  time  his  glance  lay  in  hers,  the  reading  eye  that 
saw  through  her,  knew  beforehand  what  was  turning 
in  her  runaway  imagination,  and  that  before  him  her 
tricks  would  not  avail. 

Then  she  ceased  to  remember  individuals,  lost  in 
a  confused,  satisfied  feeling  of  an  experience.  It 
seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had  taken  a  great  step  —  that 
opportunity  had  strangely  served  her,  that  she  had 
at  last  entered  a  world  which  was  worthy  of  her 
curiosity. 

She  had  met  few  real  men.  She  had  played  with 
idlers,  boys  of  twenty  or  boys  of  forty,  interested  in 
nothing  but  an  indolent  floating  voyage  through  life. 
For  the  first  time,  she  had  come  into  contact  with  a 
new  type,  felt  the  shock  of  masculine  vitality.  What- 
ever their  cynical  ideas  of  conduct,  she  felt  a  difference 
here.  They  were  men  of  power,  with  an  object,  who 
did  not  fill  their  days  with  trifling,  but  who  sought 
pleasure  to  fling  off  for  a  moment  the  obsession  of 
ambitions,  to  relax  from  the  tyranny  of  effort,  or  to 
win  back  a  new  strength  in  a  moment  of  discourage- 
ment. Perhaps  if  she  continued  her  career  she  might 
turn  them  into  friends  —  loyal  friends.  It  would  be 
difficult  but  very  useful.  The  men  she  met  usually, 
at  first,  misunderstood  her. 

"Perhaps  one  of  them  will  change  my  whole  life! 


THE  SALAMANDER  57 

Why  not?  I  have  a  feeling — "  she  said  solemnly  to 
herself,  nodding  and  biting  her  little  under  lip. 

The  truth  was,  she  felt  the  same  after  every  en- 
counter, dramatizing  each  man,  and  flinging  herself 
romantically  on  a  sea  of  her  imagining.  But  to-day 
it  was  a  little  different.  The  feeling  was  more  pro- 
found, calmer,  more  penetrating.  She  felt,  indeed, 
under  the  influence  of  a  new  emotion,  a  restlessness 
in  the  air,  an  unease  in  the  crowded  streets. 

Since  morning,  the  glowing  warmth  of  the  last 
summery  stillness  had  slipped  away  unperceived. 
The  wind  in  an  hour  had  gone  round  to  the  north,  and 
from  each  whipping  banner  threaded  against  the  sky 
one  felt  the  whistling  onrush  of  winter.  In  the  air 
there  was  something  suspended,  a  melancholy  resound- 
ing profoundly,  penetrating  the  soul  of  the  multitude. 
The  gray  sluggish  currents  in  the  thoroughfare  quick- 
ened, stirring  more  restlessly,  apprehensive,  caught 
unawares.  Little  gusts  of  wind,  scouts  heralding  the 
chill  battalions  piling  up  on  the  horizon,  drove  through 
the  city  clefts,  sporting  stray  bits  of  paper  to  the  roof- 
tops, in  turbulent  dusty,  swooping  flight,  uncovering 
heads  and  rolling  hats  like  saucers  down  the  blinded 
streets.  Then  suddenly  the  gusts  flattened  out.  A 
stillness  succeeded,  but  grim,  permeating,  monstrous; 
and  above  the  winter  continued  to  advance. 

She  felt  something  in  all  this  —  something  ominous, 
prophetic,  vaguely  troubling,  and  being  troubled, 
sought  to  put  it  from  her.  She  began  to  dramatize 
another  mood.  About  her  she  felt  the  city  she  adored : 


58  THE  SALAMANDER 

the  restaurants,  the  theaters,  the  great  hotels,  the 
rocket-rise  of  the  white  Times  building,  towering  like 
a  pillar  of  salt  in  accursed  Sodom.  But  her  mind  did 
not  penetrate  to  ugliness.  The  febrile  activity,  the 
glistening  surface  of  pleasure,  the  sensation  of  easy 
luxurious  flight  awoke  in  her  the  intoxication  of  en- 
joyment. She  adored  it,  this  city  whom  so  many 
curse,  whose  luxuries  and  pleasures  opened  so  facilely 
to  her  nod,  whose  conquest  had  borne  so  little  diffi- 
culty. 

She  forgot  the  unease  that  lay  in  the  air  at  the  sight 
of  the  feverish  restaurants  where  so  often  she  had 
dipped  in  for  adventure  of  the  afternoon.  The  sight 
of  the  theaters,  even,  with  their  cold  white  globes 
above  the  outpouring  matinee  crowds,  brought  an  im- 
patience for  the  garlanded  night,  when  elegant  shadows 
would  come,  slipping  into  flaming  portals,  amid  the 
flash  of  ankles,  the  scent  of  perfume,  glances  of  women 
challenging  the  envy  of  the  crowd. 

The  multitude  churned  about  her,  roaring  down  into 
the  confusion  of  many  currents :  the  multitude  —  the 
others.  —  whom  she  felt  so  distant,  so  far  below  her. 
They  were  there,  white  of  face,  troubled,  frowning, 
harassed,  swelling  onward  to  clamoring  tasks,  spying 
her  with  thousand-eyed  envy;  and  everywhere  dart- 
ing in  and  out,  dodging  the  gray  contact  of  the  mass, 
alert,  light,  skimming  on  like  sea-gulls  trailing  their 
wings  across  the  chafing  ocean,  the  luxurious  women 
of  the  city  sped  in  rolling  careless  flight.  She  felt 
herself  one  of  them,  admiring  and  admired,  glancing 
eagerly  into  tonneaus  bright  with  laughter  and  fashion, 


THE  SALAMANDER  59 

deliciously  registering  the  sudden  analytical  stare  of 
women,  or  the  disloyal  tribute  boldly  telegraphed  of 
men. 

She  had  lunched  with  Sassoon,  De  Joncy,  Massin- 
gale.  She  was  a  part  of  all  this  —  of  the  Brahmin 
caste;  and  her  little  body  rocking  to  the  swooping 
turns,  deliciously  cradled,  her  eyes  half  closed,  her 
nostrils  drawing  in  this  frantic  air  as  if  it  were  the 
breath  of  an  enchanting  perfume,  she  let  her  imagina- 
tion go :  already  there  by  right,  married  to  Massingale 
or  Lindaberry  —  she  saw  not  which  quite  clearly. 
Nor  did  it  matter.  Only  she  herself  mattered. 

"  Riverside  or  park,  Dodo  ?  " 

"  Through  the  park,"  she  said ;  and  roused  from 
her  castle-building,  she  laughed  at  herself  with  a  toler- 
ant amused  confusion. 

"  Good  spirits,  eh  ?  " 

"So-so!" 

In  the  park  there  were  fewer  automobiles.  She 
no  longer  had  the  feeling  of  the  crowd  pressing  about 
her,  claiming  her  for  its  own.  There  were  no  res- 
taurants or  climbing  fagades.  There  was  the  earth, 
bare,  shivering,  and  the  sky  filled  with  the  invader. 

She  had  a  horror  of  change,  and  suffered  with  a 
profound  and  uncomprehended  trouble  when,  each 
year,  she  saw  summer  go  into  the  mystery  of  winter, 
and  again  when  came  the  awakening  miracle.  Yes- 
terday, when  she  had  passed,  the  splendor  of  the  trees, 
it  is  true,  lay  shorn  upon  the  ground;  but  the  earth 
was  warm,  pleasant,  with  a  fragrant  odor,  the  air 
soft  and  the  evening  descended  in  a  glow.  Now 


60  THE  SALAMANDER 

there  was  a  difference.  Over  all  was  the  dread  sense 
of  change.  Each  tree  stood  alone,  aghast,  against 
the  sky,  the  ground  bleak,  bare,  the  leaves  wandering 
with  a  little  moaning,  driven  restlessness.  Even 
against  the  gray  banks  piling  up  against  the  north 
there  was  something  vacant  and  horribly  endless. 
From  tree,  sky  and  empty  earth  a  spirit  had  suddenly 
withdrawn,  and  all  this  change  had  come  within  an 
hour,  in  a  twinkling  —  without  warning. 

Now  she  could  no  longer  put  it  from  her,  this  re- 
sistless verity  that  laid  its  chill  fingers  across  her  heart. 
It  was  not  of  the  change  in  nature  she  thought  —  no ; 
but  of  that  specter  which  some  day,  inexorably,  would 
rise  from  a  distant  horizon,  even  as  the  wind  in  an 
hour  goes  round  to  the  north  and  winter  rushes  in. 
She  was  twenty-two  and  she  had  a  horror  of  this 
thief,  who  came  soft-footed  and  unreal,  to  steal  the 
meager  years. 

She  stiffened  suddenly,  clutching  her  stole  to  her 
throat. 

"Too  cold?" 

"Yes!" 

"  I've  got  a  coat  for  you." 

"No, -go  back!" 

"Already?" 

"Yes!" 

"Tea?" 

"No!     Go  back!" 

She  closed  her  eyes,  not  to  see,  but  the  thing  was 
there,  everywhere,  in  the  air  that  came  to  her,  in  the 
sad  tiny  sounds  that  rose  about  them.  Yes,  she  her- 


THE  SALAMANDER  61 

self  would  change  inexorably,  as  all  things  filled  their 
appointed  time.  What  she  had  was  given  but  for  a 
day  —  all  her  fragile  armament  was  but  for  a  day. 
Not  much  longer  could  she  go  blithely  along  the  sum- 
mery paths  of  summer.  She  thought  of  Winona 
Horning,  who  had  played  too  long.  She  thought  of 
thirty  as  a  sort  of  sepulcher,  an  end  of  all  things! 
She  felt  something  new  impelling  her  on  —  a  haste 
and  a  warning. 

"  It  can't  go  on  always !  "  she  said  to  herself,  in  her 
turn  using  the  very  words  that  Winona  had  uttered. 
"  Not  much  longer.  A  year,  only  a  year,  then  I  must 
make  up  my  mind !  " 

"Blue,  Dodo?"  said  Stacey. 

"Horribly!" 

The  word  seemed  so  incongruously  ridiculous,  after 
what  she  had  felt,  that  she  burst  into  exaggerating 
laughter. 

"  Going  to  change  your  mind  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  I'm  out  of  sorts  —  a  cold !  Get  me 
back!" 

They  reentered  the  city  as  the  first  owlish  lights 
were  peeping  out,  futile,  brave  little  rebels  against 
the  spreading  night.  Below,  high  in  the  air,  suspended 
above  the  ghostly  town  whose  sides  had  faded,  the 
great  illumined  eye  of  the  Metropolitan  tower  shone 
forth.  Then  all  at  once*  long  sentinel  files  of  lights 
rose  on  the  avenue  and  down  the  fleeting  side  streets, 
miraculous  electric  signs  burst  out  against  the  night,  a 
myriad  windows  caught  fire,  and  the  city,  which  a  mo- 
ment ago  had  seemed  flat,  climbed  blazing  into  the  air. 


62 

They  were  again  nearing  the  great  artery,  which 
changes  its  name  with  the  coming  of  the  artificial  night, 
no  longer  Broadway,  but  the  Rialto,  with  its  mysteries 
of  entangled  beams  and  profound  pools  of  darkness, 
its  laughter  free  or  suspect,  its  mingled  virtue  and  vice, 
elbowing  and  staring  at  each  other,  its  joy  and  its 
despair  treading  in  each  other's  steps. 

But  the  dread  reminder  was  still  above,  hurling  its 
black  engulfing  storm  across  the  bombardment  of  a 
million  lights,  that  painted  it  with  a  strange  red  glare, 
but  could  not  destroy  its  menace.  A  few  cold  drops  of 
rain,  wind  driven,  dashed  against  their  faces,  as  they 
went  with  the  crowd,  scuttling  on.  There  was  some- 
thing unreal  now  in  all  this,  something  artificial  in  the 
glimpse  of  vacant  restaurants  setting  their  candles  for 
the  guests  who  went  fleeing  home.  Of  plunging  tem- 
perament, she  had  a  horror  of  these  rare  depressions, 
striving  frantically  against  the  realization  of  what 
must  be,  and  striving  thus,  always  suffering  the  more 
keenly.  In  seeing  all  this  fugitive  world,  flat  shadows 
driven  restlessly  as  the  shorn  splendor  of  the  streets, 
she  asked  herself  of  what  use  it  was  after  all,  to  be 
young,  to  be  attractive,  to  go  laughing  and  dancing, 
to  dare,  to  conquer  .  .  .  why,  indeed,  childhood,  ma- 
turity and  old  age  should  stretch  so  far,  and  youth, 
the  exultant  brilliant  hour  she  clung  to,  should  be  al- 
lotted only  the  few,  the  fingered  years!  She  felt  a 
sense  of  loneliness,  of  terrified  isolation,  the  need  of 
some  one  to  come  and  talk  to  her,  to  interpose  himself 
between  her  and  these  unanswerable  questions,  to  close 
her  eyes  and  stop  her  ears. 


THE  SALAMANDER  63 

When  they  reached  Miss  Pirn's  the  rain  was  be- 
ginning in  little  flurries.  She  ran  in  and  tip-stairs 
hurriedly.  She  had  hoped  that  she  would  find  her 
room  lighted,  that  Snyder  or  Winona  would  be  home. 
No  one  was  there,  and  when  she  opened  the  door  she 
entered  a  region  of  obscure  shadowy  forms,  faintly 
lighted  by  the  reflection  of  a  street  lamp  below.  Across 
the  windows  on  the  avenue  was  the  cyclopean  eye  of 
the  Metropolitan  tower,  which  she  saw  always  every 
night  with  her  last  peeping  glance  from  her  covers  — 
enormous  eye,  bulging,  swollen  with  curiosity.  At  the 
other  side  was  the  wall  of  brick  pressing  against 
the  window-pane,  this  wall  she  hated  as  she  hated  the 
idea  of  the  commonplace  in  life. 

She  stood  in  the  luminous  pathway,  gazing  out- 
ward. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  me  ? "  she  thought. 
"  Am  I  like  Winona  ?  Am  I  getting  tired  of  it  all  ? 
Or  is  it  —  what?" 

The  metallic  summons  of  the  telephone  broke  upon 
her  mood.  She  lighted  the  gas  quickly.  The  tele- 
phone continued  to  clamor,  but  she  took  no  step  toward 
it.  All  that  she  had  planned  as  a  choice  for  the  even- 
ing no  longer  interested  her.  She  was  in  another 
mood.  She  flung  down  her  things  rapidly.  Then,  re- 
membering the  bouquet  of  Sassoon's,  she  took  it  off, 
pricking  her  fingers.  Inclosed  was  a  bank-note  for  a 
hundred  dollars ! 

Then  she  began  to  laugh  —  a  bitter  incongruous 
note.  She  understood  now  why  he  had  gone  so 
abruptly  to  his  questions,  confident  in  the  test  he  had 


64  THE  SALAMANDER 

prepared  among  the  fragile  stems  of  orchids  and  dainty 
yellow  pansies. 

All  at  once  her  eye  went  to  her  pin-cushion,  caught 
by  the  white  note  of  visiting-cards  left  there  by 
Josephus,  the  colored  chore-boy.  She  crossed  quickly, 
stretching  out  her  finger  impatiently.  Which  of  the 
four  had  come,  as  she  had  determined?  The  first 
bore  the  name  of  Harrigan  Blood,  the  second  Albert 
Edward  Sassoon.  She  stood  staring  at  the  last,  the 
hundred-dollar  bill  still  wrapped  in  her  fingers.  .  .  . 
Sassoon  and  Harrigan  Blood !  She  let  the  cards  drop, 
profoundly  disappointed,  prey  to  a  sudden  heavy  re- 
turn of  disillusionment. 

The  telephone,  querulous,  impatient,  again  called 
her,  but  she  turned  her  shoulder  impatiently.  Now 
the  thought  of  an  evening  of  gaiety  revolted  her. 
She  changed  quickly,  wrapped  herself  up  in  an  ulster, 
took  an  umbrella  and  went  out,  though  by  the  wide- 
faced  clock  in  the  skies  it  was  scarcely  six.  Before, 
she  had  sought  to  break  away,  to  escape  recklessly 
from  the  depression  that  claimed  her :  now  she  sought 
it  out,  surrendering  to  this  tristesse  that  whirled  her 
on  with  its  exquisite  benumbing  melancholy. 

She  supped  at  a  lunch-room  in  Lexington  Avenue, 
paying  out  a  precious  thirty  cents  for  a  cup  of  coffee, 
a  bowl  of  crackers  and  milk,  a  baked  potato.  Not 
many  were  there  yet.  A  young  fellow  without  an 
overcoat,  stooping  already,  pinched  by  struggle,  came 
and  sat  at  her  table,  seeking  an  opportunity  to  offer 
her  the  sugar.  But,  seeing  her  so  silent  and  inwardly 
tortured,  he  did  not  persist. 


THE  SALAMANDER  65 

She  did  not  notice  him.  She  was  thinking  always 
of  Massingale,  and  a  little  of  Lindaberry.  Why  had 
she  succeeded  with  Sassoon  and  Blood  only  to  fail 
where  she  wanted  to  win? 

"  He  carries  a  coffin  on  his  back! "  she  found  her- 
self repeating,  in  the  cynical  words  of  Harrigan 
Blood.  He  would  not  seek  her  out;  nor  would  Mas- 
singale. All  her  castles  in  the  air  had  collapsed.  It 
was  only  to  the  others,  then,  that  she  could  appeal  — 
the  flesh  hunters ! 

She  returned,  swaying  against  the  wind,  holding 
her  umbrella  with  difficulty  against  the  spattering 
rain-drops,  that  seemed  to  rise  from  the  glistening 
sidewalks.  The  young  man,  who  had  no  umbrella, 
remained  in  the  shelter  of  a  doorway,  watching  her. 
undecidedly. 

"  Ah,  yes!  I  must  be  getting  tired  of  it!  "  she  said 
suddenly,  as  she  reached  her  steps.  A  taxicab  was 
turning  in  the  avenue,  having  just  drawn  away.  As 
she  went  slowly  up  the  interminable,  impenetrable, 
dark  flights  to  her  room,  she  said,  revolting  against 
an  injustice: 

"  Well,  if  he  doesn't  come,  I'll  go  and  find  him !  " 

She  entered  her  room,  lagging  and  depressed,  know- 
ing not  how  to  spend  the  hours  until  sleep  arrived. 
She  had  no  feeling  of  reticence  in  seeking  out  Mas- 
singale and  Lindaberry,  since  they  appealed  to  her 
and  would  not  come,  any  more  than  she  felt  the  slight- 
est diminution  of  her  self-respect  in  situations  labeled 
with  the  appearance  of  suspicion.  Her  ideas  of  mo- 
rality and  conduct  were  not  even  formulated.  They 


66  THE  SALAMANDER 

existed  as  the  sense  of  danger  exists  to  a  pretty  ani- 
mal. For,  ardently  as  she  desired  it,  there  had  not 
come  into  her  soul  the  awakening  breath  of  love, 
which,  in  despite  of  old  traditions  and  lost  heritages, 
alone  would  be  to  her  rebellious  little  Salamander 
soul  the  supreme  law  of  conduct. 

Suddenly  she  saw  that  on  her  pin-cushion  another 
card  had  been  placed  while  she  had  been  absent.  She 
went  to  it  without  expectation.  It  was  from  Massin- 
gale  —  Massingale,  who  must  have  left  in  the  taxicab 
even  as  she  returned  hopelessly. 

Then  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  a  thousand  tons  had 
slipped  from  her.  She  felt  an  extraordinary  joy  and 
confidence,  the  alertness  of  a  young  animal,  a  need 
of  light  and  laughter,  a  longing  to  plunge  into  a  rush 
of  excitement. 

The  telephone  rang.  Donald  Bacon  was  clamor- 
ing to  take  her  to  the  cabaret  party.  She  disliked 
him  cordially.  She  accepted  with  wild  delight. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  morning  was  well  spent  when  Dore  awoke, 
after  a  gray  return  from  the  cabaret  party 
where,  in  a  revulsion  of  emotions,  she  had  flirted  scan- 
dalously. But  the  men  with  whom  she  had  danced,^ 
laughed  and  fenced,  provokingly  were  lost  in  a  mist. 
They  had  only  served  to  eat  up  the  intervening  time; 
she  had  not  even  a  thought  for  them. 

The  busy  bubbling  whistle  of  a  coffee-pot  in  fragrant 
operation  sounded  from  the  table.  She  opened  one 
eye  with  difficulty,  peering  out  the  window  at  her 
friend,  the  clock.  It  was  already  thirty-five  minutes 
past  ten  —  what  might  be  called  a  dawn  breakfast 
in  Salamanderland. 

Snyder,  moving  about  the  table  with  a  watchful 
eye,  came  to  her  immediately. 

"Take  it  easy,  Petty!  Don't  wake  up  unless  you 
feel  like  it!" 

She  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  the  smile  of 
fond  solicitude  with  which  she  bent  over  Dodo, 
lightly  touching  her  hair,  seemed  like  another  soul 
looking  through  the  tired  mask  of  Lottie  Snyder. 

"You're  an  angel,  Snyder!  You  spoil  me!"  said 
Dodo,  rubbing  her  eyes  and  twisting  her  body  in  lazy 
feline  stretches. 

67 


68  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Me  an  angel  ?  Huh !  "  said  Snyder,  grinding  on 
her  heel. 

She  went  to  the  improvised  kitchen  with  the  free 
gliding  grace  of  the  trained  dancer,  and  lifting  the 
top  of  the  coffee-pot,  dropped  in  two  eggs. 

Breakfast  at  Miss  Pirn's  was  an  inviolable  institu- 
tion ending  at  eight-thirty  sharp.  Wherefore,  as  the 
Salamanders  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  getting 
up  to  see  the  sun  rise,  coffee  was  always  an  improvisa- 
tion and  eggs  a  visitation  of  Providence.  Besides, 
the  Salamanders,  for  the  most  part,  made  their  ar- 
rangements for  lodgings  only,  trusting  in  the  faith- 
ful legion  of  props,  but  supplementing  that  trust  by 
an  economical  planning  of  the  schedule  ahead.  In  a 
week,  it  was  rare  that  a  Salamander  was  forced  to  a 
recourse  on  her  purse  for  more  than  one  luncheon  — 
dinner  never. 

"Did  you  hear  me  come  in?"  said  Dore,  raising 
her  gleaming  white  arms  in  the  air  and  letting  the 
silken  sleeves  slip  rustling  to  her  shoulders. 

"  Me?  No!  "  said  Snyder,  who  had  not  closed  her 
eyes  until  the  return.  "  Here's  the  mail." 

Dore  raised  herself  eagerly  on  one  elbow. 

"How  many?  What!  only  four?"  she  said,  tak- 
ing the  letters  from  Snyder. 

She  frowned  at  the  instant  perception  of  Miss 
Pirn's  familiar  straight  up  and  down,  sharp  and  thin 
writing,  concealing  the  dreaded  summons  quickly  be- 
low the  others,  that  Snyder,  who  paid  nothing,  might 
not  see. 

Two    she    recognized;    the    third    was    unfamiliar. 


THE  SALAMANDER  69 

She  turned  it  over,  studying  it,  characteristically  re- 
serving the  mystery  until  the  last.  But,  as  she  put  it 
down  on  the  white  counterpane,  she  had  a  feeling  of 
expectant  certitude  that  it  was  from  Massingale. 

"  Well,  let's  see  what  my  dear  old  patriarch  says !  " 
she  said,  settling  back  in  the  pillows  and  taking  up  a 
stamped  envelope,  typewritten,  with  a  business  ad- 
dress in  the  corner. 

"  Dear  Miss  Baxter: 

"  Will  be  in  town  to-morrow,  Friday,  the  twenty-second.  It 
would  give  me  great  pleasure  if  you  could  lunch  with  me  at 
twelve-thirty.  Will  send  my  car  for  you  at  twelve-twenty.  I 
trust  you  are  following  my  advice  and  giving  attention  to  your 
health. 

"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"ORLANDO  B.  PEAVEY. 

"  P.  S.  Am  called  to  important  business  appointment  at  one- 
thirty  sharp,  but  take  this  brief  opportunity  to  see  you  again. 
Telephone  my  office  only  in  case  you  can  not  come. 

"  O.  B.  P." 

"  Sweetest  old  thing !  "  she  said,  smiling  at  the  post- 
script characteristically  initialed.  "  So  thoughtful  — 
kindest  person  in  the  world !  " 

Snyder  brought  her  coffee  and  an  egg  broken  and 
seasoned  in  a  tooth-mug.  Dore  glanced  at  it  sus- 
piciously, seeking  to  discover  if  the  division  had  been 
fair. 

"  My!  Eggs  are  a  luxury,"  she  said,  applying  the 
tip  of  her  tongue  to  the  tip  of  the  spoon;  and  she 
added  meditatively :  "  I  wish  Stacey  went  in  for 
chickens !  " 

She  took   up  the  unknown   letter,   turned   it  over 


70  THE  SALAMANDER 

once  more,  and  laid  it  slowly  aside  in  favor  of  the 
second,  a  fat  envelope  covered  with  the  boyish  scrawl 
of  the  prop  in  disgrace.  She  spread  the  letter,  frown- 
ing determinedly.  Joe  Gilday  was  difficult  to  manage, 
too  alert  to  be  long  kept  in  the  prop  squad.  It  be- 
gan without  preliminaries  and  a  fine  independence  of 
punctuation : 

"Look  here,  Do  —  what's  the  use  of  rubbing  it  in  on  a  fellow? 
You've  made  me  miserable  as  an  Esquimo  in  Africa,  and  why? 
What  have  I  done?  Supposing  I  did  slip  fifty  in  your  bureau 
honest  to  God  Do  you  don't  think  I'd  do  anything  to  jar  your 
feelings  do  you?  Lord,  I'll  lay  down  and  let  you  use  me  for 
a  door  mat  for  a  week  if  it'll  help  any.  Kid  you've  got 
me  going  bad.  I'm  miserable.  I'm  all  shot  to  pieces  — 
insult  you,  why  Do,  I'd  Turkey  Trot  on  my  Granny's  grave 
first.  Won't  you  let  up  —  see  a  fellow  won't  you  ?  I'll  be 
around  at  noon  if  you  don't  see  me  I  swear  I'll  warm  the  door- 
step until  the  neighbors  come  out  and  feed  me  for  charity: 
that's  straight  too!  Now  be  a  good  sort  Do  and  give  me  a 
chance  to  explain. 

"  Down  in  the  dumps, 

"J.  J.  (Just  Joe.)" 

This  note,  inspired  with  the  slang  of  Broadway, 
would  have  made  Dore  laugh  the  day  before,  but  the 
experiences  of  the  last  twenty-four  hours  had  given 
her  a  standard  of  comparison.  Between  Joseph  Gil- 
day,  Junior,  and  the  men  she  had  met  there  was  a 
whole  social  voyage.  Nevertheless,  props  were  neces- 
sary, and  undecided,  she  laid  the  scrawl  on  Mr. 
Peavey's  neat  invitation,  postponing  decisions.  She 
opened  the  third,  drawing  out  a  neat  oblong  card, 
neatly  inscribed  in  a  minuscule  graceful  handwriting, 
slightly  scented : 


THE  SALAMANDER  71 

"My  dear  Miss  Baxter: 
"  I  shall  call  this  afternoon  at  two  o'clock. 

"A.  E.  SASSOON." 

She  was  not  surprised  at  the  signature  nor  the 
pasha-like  brevity. 

"  Harrigan  Blood  won't  take  chances ;  he'll  tele- 
phone," she  thought.  At  the  bottom  she  was  pleased 
at  this  insistence  of  Sassoon's;  it  worked  well  with 
the  plan  she  had  determined  on  for  his  disciplining. 
"You're  sure  that's  all?"  she  said  aloud,  wondering 
what  Massingale  would  do. 

"  Yes." 

"  Wonder  why  he  called  so  soon  ?  "  she  thought 
pensively;  and  then,  remembering  the  warring  cards 
of  Blood  and  Sassoon,  added :  "  To  warn  me,  per- 
haps?" 

She  smiled  at  this  possibility,  sure  of  herself,  know- 
ing well  how  weak  the  strongest  man  is  before  the 
weakest  of  her  sex,  when  he  comes  with  a  certain 
challenge  in  his  eyes. 

"So  Sassoon  is  coming,  is  he?  Good!"  she  said 
musingly,  a  little  far-off  mockery  in  her  smile ;  and  to 
herself  she  rehearsed  again  the  scene  she  had  pre- 
pared, coddling  her  cheek  against  her  bare  soft  arm, 
dreamily  awake. 

She  would  receive  him  with  carefully  simulated 
cordiality  there  below  in  the  dusky  boarding-house 
parlor;  she  could  even  lead  him  to  believe  that  he 
might  dare  anything;  and  suddenly,  when  she  had  led 
him  to  indiscretions,  she  would  say  suddenly,  as  if 
the  thought  had  just  suggested  itself: 


72  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  What !  you  have  no  flowers.  You  shall  wear 
mine!  " 

She  smiled  a  little  more  maliciously  at  the  thought 
of  the  look  that  would  come  into  those  heavy  foolish 
eyes  at  this.  Then,  taking  a  few  violets  from  her 
corsage,  she  would  fix  them  in  his  buttonhole,  saying: 

"  No,  no ;  look  up  at  the  ceiling  while  I  fix  them 
nicely  —  so!  " 

And,  when  she  had  coaxed  him  into  a  ridiculous 
craning  of  his  neck,  she  would  deftly  pin  the  hundred- 
dollar  bill  on  the  lapel  under  the  little  cluster  of  purple, 
and  turning  him  toward  the  mirror,  say,  with  a  mock- 
ing farewell  courtesy: 

"  Mr.  Albert  Edward  Sassoon,  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  returning  your  visiting-card !  " 

She  was  so  content  with  this  bit  of  romance  that 
she  laughed  aloud. 

"  Hello!  what's  up?"  said  Snyder,  taking  away  the 
tooth-mug. 

D.odo  could  not  restrain  her  admiration. 

"  You  know,  Snyder,"  she  said  seriously,  "  I  am 
really  very  clever !  " 

But  she  did  not  particularize.  She  had  a  feeling 
that  Snyder,  who  watched  over  her  in  a  faithful,  ador- 
ing, dog-like  way,  might  not  quite  approve.  She  did 
not  know  quite  what  made  her  feel  this,  for  they  had 
not  exchanged  intimacies;  yet  she  felt  occasionally  in 
Snyder's  glance,  when  she  met  it  unawares,  a  dormant 
uneasy  apprehension. 

"  Now  for  it ! "  she  thought,  and  taking  up  the 
last  note,  unstamped,  she  tore  it  open. 


THE  SALAMANDER  73 

"Miss  Dore  Baxter,  Dr. 

"  To  Miss  Evangelica  Pirn 
"  Four  weeks'  lodging,  third  floor  double  room  front  at  $10 

per   week    $40 

"  Kindly  call  to  see  me  as  to  above  account." 

"  Four  —  impossible !  "  exclaimed  Dore,  bolt  up- 
right, now  thoroughly  awake.  But  instantly  she  re- 
pressed her  emotions,  lest  Snyder  might  guess  the 
cause.  She  made  a  rapid  calculation,  and  discovered 
that  in  fact  she  had  to  face  four  deficiencies  instead 
of  three.  But  finances  never  long  dismayed  her. 

"  Anyhow,"  she  thought,  "  I  can  turn  over  the 
champagne.  If  only  Winona  raised  something  on  the 
orchids !  There  are  a  dozen  ways,  but  I  must  give  it 
some  attention !  " 

Suddenly  she  remembered  Harrigan  Blood's  esti- 
mate of  the  cost  of  yesterday's  luncheon,  and  of  what 
she  had  herself  turned  over  with  her  fork.  She 
thought  of  what  Sassoon  spent  so  carelessly,  and  of 
what  he  might  squander  were  he  once  awakened,  really 
interested.  .  .  .  Not  that  there  was  the  slightest  temp- 
tation,—  no  —  but  it  did  amuse  her  to  consider  thus  the 
irony  of  her  present  dilemma.  Well,  there  certainly 
were  funny  things  in  life ! 

Snyder  had  silently  cleared  away  breakfast,  and 
seated  herself  with  a  book  by  the  window.  Now, 
glancing  at  the  clock,  she  rose. 

"Ready  for  tub,  Petty?     I'll  start  it  up." 

"  Snyder,  you're  too  good  to  me !  "  said  Dore,  rous- 
ing herself  from  her  reveries. 

"  Huh !     Wish  I  could !     Hot  or  cold  ?  " 


74  THE  SALAMANDER 

But  Dore,  catching  her  wrist,  detained  her,  her 
curiosity  excited. 

"  You're  the  queerest  thing-  I  ever  knew!  "  she  said, 
looking  at  her  fixedly. 

"That's  right,  too!" 

"  Why  do  you  insist  upon  my  calling  you  Snyder?  " 

"  Don't  like  to  get  fond  of  people,"  said  the  other 
shortly. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Too  long  a  story." 

She  sought  to  detach  her  wrist,  but  Dore  held  it 
firmly. 

"And  aren't  you  fond  of  me?" 

Snyder  hesitated,  frowning  at  thus  being  forced  to 
talk. 

"  Sure!     Couldn't  help  it,  could  I?" 

Dore  smiled,  pleased  at  this  admission. 

"  And  yet,  you  have  such  a  funny  way  of  watching 
me!" 

"Me?     How  so?" 

"  Yes,  you  have !  I  often  wonder  what's  back  of 
a  certain  queer  look  you  get  — " 

"What  I'm  thinking?" 

"Yes!" 

"  I  want  to  see  you  married  and  settled,  girlie! " 

No  more  unexpected  answer  could  have  been  given. 

"  Heaven  forbid !  "  said  Dore,  sitting  up  in  astonish- 
ment. For  this  commonplace  solution  to  all  the  ro- 
mantic possibilities  she  imagined  always  infuriated 
her.  But  at  this  moment  Ida  Summers  came,  after 
a  little  rippling  knock,  a  grapefruit  in  hand. 


THE  SALAMANDER  75 

The  new  arrival  was  in  bedroom  slippers  and  pink 
peignoir,  her  disordered  hair  concealed  under  a  tasseled 
negligee  cap.  She  was  a  bit  roly-poly,  but  piquant, 
merry,  still  new  to  Salamanderland,  hugely  enjoying 
each  little  excitement. 

"Breakfasted  already?"  she  said  in  astonishment. 
"  Heavens !  Dodo,  how  do  you  get  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  night?" 

She  began  to  laugh  before  she  finished  the  sentence, 
she  laughed  so  hard  as  she  said  it  that  it  was  almost 
incomprehensible,  and  she  continued  laughing  long 
after  Dore  had  ceased.  She  could  hardly  ever  relate 
an  incident  without  being  overcome  with  laughter,  but 
the  sound  was  pleasantly  musical,  infectious  even,  and 
the  blue  devils  went  out  the  window  as  she  came  in  the 
door. 

"  Heavens !  .  .  .  thought  I  had  a  swap  for  a  cup 
of  coffee,"  she  said,  beginning  to  laugh  again  at  the 
thought  of  her  exploded  stratagem. 

"  There  ought  to  be  some  left,"  said  Dore,  venturing 
one  rosy  foot  from  under  the  covers  in  search  of  a 
warm  slipper.  She  was  still  thinking  of  Snyder's 
strange  speech. 

Having  teased  from  the  coffee-pot  a  bare  cup  of 
coffee,  Ida  camped  down  on  the  couch,  and  while 
waiting  for  the  coffee  to  cool,  applied  the  end  of  her 
forefinger  to  the  tip  of  her  nose  in  the  way  to  uplift  it 
contrary  to  the  gift  of  nature. 

"  Ida,  do  leave  that  nose  alone,"  said  Dore. 

"I  must  have  a  retrousse  nose,"  said  the  girl 
merrily.  "  This  doesn't  go  with  my  style  of  laughter. 


76  THE  SALAMANDER 

All  the  artist-men  tell  me  so.  Ah,  this  nose !  "  And 
she  gave  it  a  vicious  jolt,  in  her  indignation.  Her 
coloring  was  gorgeous,  her  lines  were  delicate,  her  ex- 
pressions vivacious  and  quick  with  natural  coquetry. 
Wherefore  she  was  in  great  demand  among  the  illus- 
trators, who  had  reproduced  her  tomboy  smile  on  the 
covers  of  a  million  magazines.  She  was  in  great  de- 
mand, but  she  was  capricious  in  her  engagements  — 
like  all  Salamanders,  sacrificing  everything  to  pleasure. 

Winona  Horning,  aroused  by  the  sounds  of  laughter, 
appeared  through  the  connecting  door,  in  a  green  and 
black  negligee,  rubbing  her  eyes,  quite  indignant. 

"  Heavens,  child !  No  one  can  sleep  when  you're 
round !  Hello,  Snyder.  Morning,  Dodo !  " 

She  said  the  last  words  in  a  tone  that  made  Snyder 
look  up  at  her,  surprised.  There  was  a  note  of  reluc- 
tance, even  of  apprehension. 

"  Ida's  drunk  up  the  coffee ;  make  her  give  you  a 
grapefruit,"  said  Dodo,  nodding  and  departing. 

When  she  darted  in  twenty  minutes  later,  tingling 
and  alert  for  the  day,  Snyder  had  gone  and  Ida  Sum- 
mers, curled  like  an  Angora  cat  on  the  couch,  was  chat- 
ting to  Winona,  who  stood  in  the  doorway,  undecid- 
edly, turning  a  cigarette  in  her  fingers,  watching  Dodo 
from  under  her  long  eyelashes. 

"  You  certainly  made  the  big  hit  last  night,  Win," 
said  Ida  rapidly.  "  Do,  you  should  have  seen  her. 
She  gets  the  men  with  that  quiet  waiting  manner  of 
hers.  I  can't  do  it  to  save  my  life.  I  have  to  rush 
in,  barking  like  a  white  fluffy  dog,  to  get  noticed." 

"  Where  were  you  ? "   said  Dore,  opening  all  the 


77 

trunks  and  ransacking  the  bureaus.  When  she  dressed, 
the  room  had  always  the  look  of  a  sudden  descent  by 
the  police. 

"  Up  at  Vaughan  Chandler's  studio,"  said  Ida,  giv- 
ing the  name  of  one  of  the  popular  illustrators,  who 
catered  to  the  sentimental  yearnings  of  the  multitude. 
"  Quite  some  party,  too,  celebrities  and  swells.  I  say, 
Do,  why  don't  you  go  in  for  head  and  shoulders? 
They're  perfect  gentlemen,  you  know  .  .  .  flirty,  of 
course,  .  .  .  but  it  pays  well,  and  they'd  go  daffy  over 
you." 

"  Don't  know  .  .  .  hadn't  thought  of  it,"  said  Dore, 
who,  having  decided  to  see  Gilday  and  lunch  with 
Peavey,  was  in  a  reverie  over  the  subject  of  the  dra- 
matic costume.  "  By  the  way,  Winona,  raise  anything 
on  the  orchids  ?  " 

"  Only  eight  bones  —  hard  enough  getting  that," 
said  Winona  slowly. 

"  Old  brute !  Pouffe  would  have  given  double," 
said  Dore  indignantly.  "  By  the  way,  Joe's  coming 
at  noon.  I  must  dress  the  stage  up  for  him.  What 
flowers  have  you  girls  got  ?  " 

"  Three  vases,"  said  Ida  joyfully.  "  Couple  of 
southern  millionaires  are  getting  quite  demonstrative 
over  little  me.  What's  up?  ...  Going  to  coax  the 
Kitty?"  she  added, —  meaning  in  Salamanderish, 
"  Are  you  going  to  encourage  him  to  make  pres- 
ents?" 

"  Must  raise  something  on  this  confounded  rent," 
said  Dore  briefly.  "  Then,  there  are  other  reasons." 

As  Ida  went  tripping  off,  her  little  white  ankles 


78  THE  SALAMANDER 

gleaming,  Winona  entered  with  two  jars  of  chrysan- 
themums which  she  placed,  one  on  the  table  and  one 
on  the  mantel,  slowly,  frowning.  Then  she  turned 
and  said,  with  a  gesture  like  a  blow: 

"Do,  I  took  it!     I  had  to!" 

"Took  what?"  Said  Dore,  startled. 

"Joe's  fifty!" 

Dore  sprang  precipitately  to  the  drawer  and  opened 
it. 

"  Winona,  you  —  you  didn't !  " 

"  It  was  that  or  get  out !  "  said  Winona  doggedly, 
her  back  against  the  wall.  "  The  Duchess  made  a 
scene.  I'll  pay  it  back  —  sure!" 

"But,  Winona,  what  am  I  to  do?  Joe's  coming. 
I  must  —  I  have  to  return  it  to  him.  What  can  I 
say?"  said  Dore  in  dismay,  staring  at  the  empty 
drawer.  "  You  had  no  right !  You  should  have 
asked  me.  I  can't  —  oh,  you've  put  me  in  an  awful 
hole !  It  wasn't  right !  " 

"Don't!     Dodo  — don't!" 

The  girl  clasped  her  hands,  extending  them  in  sup- 
plication, and  burst  into  tears. 

Dore  could  not  resist  the  spectacle  of  this  misery. 
She  sprang  to  her  side,  seizing  her  in  her  arms,  all 
her  anger  gone. 

"  Never  mind !  I  don't  care !  You  poor  child !  It 
isn't  the  money  —  it  isn't  that !  I'll  find  some  way." 
All  at  once  she  remembered  the  hundred  dollars  of 
Sassoon's  bouquet.  "  Stupid !  Why,  of  course ! " 
She  recounted  hastily  the  incident  to  Winona,  smooth- 
ing her  hair. 


THE  SALAMANDER  79 

"  But,  Do,  you  can't  take  it.  How  can  you?  "  said 
Winona,  becoming  more  calm. 

"  Why  not?     It  was  a  present  to  each." 

"  But  what  can  you  say  to  Sassoon?  " 

"Him?  Let  me  alone;  I'll  invent  something  — 
he'll  never  know !  Bah !  I  shall  miss  a  fine  scene,  that's 
all ! "  she  added  with  a  dramatic  regret.  "  Well, 
that's  over !  How  much  did  you  use  ?  " 

"  Thirty-five." 

"Keep  the  rest!" 

"  I'll  pay." 

"  Bur-r shut  up !  I'm  not  lending.  Borrowing 

breaks  up  friendships.  It's  yours  —  it's  given !  " 

She  looked  at  the  distressed  girl  a  moment  and 
added  apprehensively: 

"Winona,  you're  losing  your  grip!" 

"Losing?     It's  gone!" 

"  Decidedly,  I  must  see  Blainey  this  afternoon  and 
get  that  job  for  you,"  said  Dore  pensively.  She  dis- 
liked these  sudden  bleak  apparitions  and  hated  long  to 
consider  them.  "  You'll  see  in  a  few  days,  all  will  be 
changed  —  all !  " 

Ida  returned  with  long-stemmed  chrysanthemums 
towering  over  her  brown  curls,  and  made  a  second  trip 
for  some  hydrangeas  which  she  had  found  at  Estelle 
Monks'  below.  The  room  had  now  quite  the  effect  of 
a  conservatory. 

"Why  don't  you  work  the  birthday  gag?"  said 
Winona  helpfully. 

"  Can't !  November's  my  month  for  Joe,"  said  Dore 
reluctantly. 


So  THE  SALAMANDER 

Birthdays,  needless  to  say,  are  legitimate  perquisites 
in  Salamanderland,  and  pretty  certain  to  occur  in  the 
first  or  second  months  of  each  new  acquaintance. 

As  the  three  Salamanders  were  thoughtfully  con- 
sidering this  possibility,  three  knocks  like  the  blow  of 
a  hammer  sounded  on  the  door,  and  the  next  moment 
the  dreaded  form  of  Miss  Pirn,  yclept  the  Duchess, 
swept,  or  rather  bounded,  in. 

"  Humph !  and  what's  this  f  olderol  mean  ?  "  she 
said,  stopping  short,  sniffing  and  folding  her  hands 
over  her  stomach.  "  Very  fine !  Plenty  of  money 
for  cabs,  perfumes,  silks,  hats,  flowers,  luxuries  — " 

"  You  certainly  don't  object  to  my  having  plenty 
of  money,  do  you,  Miss  Pirn  ?  "  said  Dore  in  a  caress- 
ing voice,  as  she  went  to  her  purse  before  the  landlady 
could  make  the  demand  direct.  "  You  seem  rather 
anxious  about  my  little  bill,  I  believe !  " 

"Little!"  exclaimed  Miss  Pirn,  sitting  down  with 
the  motion  of  a  jack-knife  shutting  up. 

Dore's  calmness  took  away  her  breath,  but  a  cer- 
tain joy  showed  itself  eagerly  over  her  spectacled  nose. 
She  understood  that  such  impudence  meant  pay. 
Nevertheless  she  sat  stiffly  and  suspiciously,  ready  to 
pounce  upon  the  slightest  evasion. 

Miss  Pirn's  face  advanced  in  three  divisions  —  fore- 
head, keen  nose  and  sharpened  chin.  She  wore  a 
high  false  front,  of  a  warmer  brown  than  the  slightly 
grizzled  hair  that  she  piled  en  turban  on  her  head,  a 
majestic  note  which  had  earned  her  the  sobriquet  of 
"  the  Duchess."  She  adhered  to  the  toilets  of  the  late 


THE  SALAMANDER  81 

seventies  —  flowing  brown  shotted  silks,  heavy  me- 
dallions, hair  bracelets,  and  on  state  occasions  ap- 
peared in  baby  pinks,  as  if  denying  the  passage  of 
years.  She  had  had  a  tragic  romance  —  one  only, 
for  her  nature  was  too  determined  to  risk  another, 
and  at  the  age  of  fifty- four  she  still  showed  herself 
implacable  to  the  male  sex,  although  not  unwilling  to 
let  it  be  known  that  she  could  choose  one  of  three  any 
day  she  selected.  She  carried  a  hand-bag,  which 
jingled  with  the  warning  note  of  silver  dollars.  She 
was  horribly  avaricious,  and  the  Salamanders  who 
courted  her  favor  paid  her,  whenever  possible,  in 
species.  Then  she  would  open  her  bag,  holding  it 
between  her  knees,  and  drop  into  it,  one  by  one,  the 
shining  round  dollars,  listening  eagerly  to  the  metallic 
shock. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Pirn,"  said  Dore,  returning  with 
her  pocketbook,  in  a  tone  of  calm  superiority  that  left 
the  landlady  dumfounded,  "  I've  told  you  frequently 
that  I  prefer  my  bill  monthly.  These  weekly  rounds 
are  exceedingly  annoying.  Please  don't  bother  me 
again.  I  have  nothing  smaller  than  a  hundred;  can 
you  change  it  ?  " 

And  flirting  the  fabulous  bill  before  the  eyes  of  the 
landlady,  she  nonchalantly  let  it  flutter  from  the  tips 
of  her  disdainful  fingers. 

Miss  Pirn,  who  liked  to  inspire  terror,  was  so  com- 
pletely nonplused  that,  though  her  lips  worked  spas- 
modically, she  found  nothing  to  say.  She  took  the 
bill  furiously,  and  went  out.  A  moment  later  Jo- 


82  THE  SALAMANDER 

sephus  appeared  with  the  change  in  an  envelope.  The 
Salamanders  were  still  in  gales  of  laughter  over  the 
discomfiture  of  their  common  enemy. 

Dodo,  left  alone,  dressed  in  a  simple  dress  of  dull 
black,  relieved  by  a  lace  edging  at  the  throat  and 
sleeves,  and  a  tailor  hat  with  the  invariable  splash  of 
a  red  feather;  for  she  made  it  a  superstition  never  to 
be  without  a  little  red  flutter  of  audacity  and  daring. 
Then  she  zealously  applied  the  powder,  to  give  a  touch 
of  ailing  melancholy  to  her  young  cheeks  —  it  would 
never  do  to  appear  before  Mr.  Peavey  in  too  healthy 
a  manifestation.  In  general,  it  must  be  noted  that 
no  Salamander  is  ever  in  perfect  health.  There  is  al- 
ways lurking  in  the  background  a  melancholy  but  most 
serviceable  ailment  that  not  only  does  for  a  thousand 
excuses,  but  encourages  concrete  evidences  of  mascu- 
line sympathy. 

Her  costume  finished,  she  exercised  her  prevarica- 
tory  talents  at  the  telephone,  soothing  irate  admirers, 
who  had  clamored  ineffectually  for  her  the  evening 
before,  with  plausible  tales  which,  if  they  did  not  en- 
tirely believe,  they  ended  by  weakly  accepting,  which 
amounted  to  the  same  thing. 

At  noon,  according  to  orders,  Joseph  Gilday,  Junior, 
arrived  with  a  carefully  simulated  hang-dog  look. 
He  was  a  wiry,  sharp-eyed,  jingling  little  fellow,  just 
twenty,  already  imbued  with  the  lawyer's  mocking 
smile,  on  the  verge  of  being  a  man  of  the  world,  eager 
to  arrive  there,  but  not  quite  emancipated.  For  the 
last  month  in  this  growing  phase  Dore  had  found  the 
lines  of  discipline  difficult  to  maintain.  She  even 


THE  SALAMANDER  83 

foresaw  the  time  when  it  would  be  impossible.  He 
had  to  be  handled  carefully. 

"  Hello,  Dodo,"  said  Gilday  in  a  hollow  tone  of 
misery,  dragging  his  cane  into  the  room  and  fastening 
humble  eyes  on  his  yellow  spats. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Dore  frigidly,  for  she  per- 
ceived his  maneuver  was  to  force  a  laugh. 

'''  Thunderation !  what  is  it  ?  "  said  Gilday,  lifting  his 
head  and  perceiving  for  the  first  time  the  floral  display 
on  the  trunk  tops,  the  bureaus  and  the  mantelpieces. 
"  I  say,  is  this  your  October  birthday?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Dore  blankly,  shaking 
the  water  from  the  stems  of  Sassoon's  orchids. 

"  Never  saw  so  many  flowers  in  my  born  life !  " 

"  Many?  ...  do  you  think  so ?  "  said  Dore  with  the 
air  of  a  marquise. 

"Ouch!"  said  Gilday;  "I  got  it!  ...  I  got  it!" 

"  I  think  you  came  here  to  .  .  ." 

Gilday  flushed;  apologies  were  not  easy  for  him. 

"  What's  the  use  of  kicking  up  a  tempest  about  a 
little  bill  of  fifty?  "  he  said  sulkily.  "  You  could  take 
it  as  all  the  other  girls  do !  " 

"  My  dear  Joe,"  said  Dore,  seizing  her  opportunity 
instantly,  "  other  girls  do,  yes  —  the  kind  that  I  think 
you  see  entirely  too  much  of.  The  trouble  with  you 
is,  you  are  not  man  of  the  world  enough  to  distinguish. 
That's  the  trouble  of  letting  boys  play  around  with 
me ;  they  make  mistakes  — " 

"  Come,  now,"  he  broke  in  furiously,  for  she 
had  touched  him  on  the  raw  of  his  vanity. 

Dore  stopped  his  exclamations  with  an  abrupt  ges- 


84  THE  SALAMANDER 

ture,  and  picking  from  her  purse  a  fifty-dollar  bill, 
held  it  to  him  between  two  fingers. 

"Take  it!" 

"  You  don't  understand." 

"  I  understand  perfectly,  and  I  understand,"  she 
added,  looking  him  in  the  whites  of  the  eyes,  "  just 
what  thoughts  have  been  in  the  back  of  your  head  for 
the  last  two  weeks !  " 

Her  plain  speaking  left  him  without  answer.  He 
reddened  to  his  ears,  took  the  bank-note  and  thrust 
it  in  his  pocket. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  say  to  you  what  I  have  to  say 
many  times,"  she  said,  without  softening  her  accusing 
glance.  "  I  expect  to  be  misunderstood  —  often.  I 
live  independently,  and  as  men  are  mostly  stupid  or 
brutal,  I  expect  to  have  to  set  them  right.  I  forgive 
always  one  mistake  —  one  only.  If  you  make  a  sec- 
ond, I  cut  your  acquaintance!  Now  we'll  consider 
the  matter  closed !  " 

Gilday  gulped,  suddenly  enlightened,  overcome  with 
mortification,  and  in  a  sudden  burst  of  sentimentality 
exclaimed : 

"  Dodo,  if  you'll  take  me  I'll  marry  you  to-night!  "• 

This  unexpected  turn,  the  value  of  which  she  did 
not  overestimate,  brought  her  a  mad  desire  to  burst 
out  laughing.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  she  had 
been  surprised  by  such  sudden  outbursts,  and  not  be- 
ing given  to  the  study  of  psychology,  had  always  been 
puzzled  —  with  a  little  disdain  for  the  superior  mas- 
culine sex. 

"  Neither  now  nor  ever! "  she  said,  with  a  shrug  of 


THE  SALAMANDER  85 

the  shoulders.  "  Don't  be  a  silly !  Hand  me  my  muff 
-  there  on  the  table.  It's  time  to  be  going !  " 

She  replaced  the  orchids,  deciding  it  was  best  to 
appear  alone  and  unbefriended  before  Peavey.  Joe, 
going  to  the  table,  stole  a  glance  at  the  cards  of  Sas- 
soon,  Harrigan  Blood  and  Judge  Massingale,  appar- 
ently carelessly  thrown  there,  and  returned  with  en- 
larged eyes. 

"  Damn  it,  Do,"  he  said,  with  a  new  respect,  "  I 
wish  you'd  let  me  buy  you  a  diamond  necklace  or  an 
automobile.  This  money  burns  my  pocket!  " 

"  Presents,  all  you  wish.  Send  me  a  little  bouquet 
of  orchids,  if  it  will  make  you  feel  better,"  she  said, 
descending  the  stairs.  "  Orchids  I  never  get  tired  of. 
If  I  were  rich  I'd  wear  a  new  bunch  every  day.  Pouffe 
has  such  exquisite  ones.  .  .  ." 

The  stairs  were  so  dark  that  she  had  to  feel  her 
way:  she  could  smile  without  fear  of  detection. 

"  He  will  leave  an  order  for  a  bouquet  every  day," 
she  thought  confidently,  and  she  began  busily  to  cal- 
culate the  advantages  of  her  understanding  with  that 
justly  fashionable  florist. 


CHAPTER  VI 

OF  all  the  men  Dodo  met,  paraded  and  ticketed 
to  her  own  satisfaction,  Mr.  Orlando  B.  Peavey 
was  perhaps  the  one  she  had  the  most  difficulty  in 
keeping  in  the  status  quo.  Not  that  a  wounding  thought 
could  ever  cross  his  timid  imagination,  but  that  she 
feared  a  crisis  which  by  every  art  she  sought  to  post- 
pone. On  the  day  he  found  courage  to  propose,  she 
knew  their  friendship  would  end.  This  exact  and 
vigorous  man  of  business,  indefatigable,  keen  and 
abrupt  in  the  conduct  of  affairs,  was  as  shy  and  dis- 
turbed in  her  presence  as  a  wild  fawn.  At  the  age  of 
twelve  he  had  been  forced,  by  the  sudden  death  of  his 
father,  to  give  up  an  education  and  fling  himself  into 
the  breach.  For  thirty-five  years  he  had  worked  as 
only  an  American  can  who  is  resolute,  ambitious,  pas- 
sionately enwrapped  in  work,  without  the  distractions 
of  a  youth  that  had  been  closed  to  him,  or  without 
other  knowledge  of  women  than  the  solitary  devotion 
he  gave  to  an  invalid  mother,  who  querulously  and 
jealously  claimed  his  few  spare  hours.  All  the  depth 
of  sentiment  and  affection  he  lavished  in  small  atten- 
tions on  this  invalid.  Yet  at  her  death  a  great  empti- 
ness arrived  —  life  itself  seemed  suddenly  incompre- 
hensible. 

For  the  first  time  he  perceived  that  he  had  almost 

86 


THE  SALAMANDER  87 

reached  fifty,  and  had  he  taken  stock  of  his  demands 
on  life  he  would  have  found  that  business  had  ceased 
to  be  a  means,  but  had  become  the  sole  end,  the  day 
and  the  night  of  his  existence.  Several  times  he  had 
had  a  furtive  desire  to  marry,  to  create  a  home,  to  look 
upon  children  whom  he  might  shower  with  the  en- 
joyments of  youth,  which  he  might  thus  in  a  reflected 
way  experience.  But  the  complaining  shadow  at  his 
side  was  a  jealous  tyrant,  always  on  the  watch  for 
such  an  eventuality,  bitterly  resisting  it  with  hysterical 
reproaches  and  frightened  prognostications  of  aban- 
donment. But  when  at  last,  two  years  ago,  he  had 
found  his  life  set  in  solitary  roads,  he  had  at  first  said 
to  himself  that  the  opportunity  had  come  too  late,  that 
he  was  past  the  age  when  marriage  would  be  safe. 
The  word  "  safe  "  was  characteristic  of  the  man.  He 
had  a  horror  of  becoming  ridiculous. 

Nevertheless,  a  life  which  had  been  conceived  in  sac- 
rifice could  not  endure  selfishly.  There  were  great 
depths  of  compassion,  yearnings  toward  the  ideal  in 
this  walled-in  existence,  that  had  to  be  fed.  He  felt 
imperatively  the  need  of  doing  good,  of  generosity  to- 
ward some  other  human  being.  He  thought  of 
adopting  a  child,  and  as  this  idea  grew  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  his  thoughts  constantly  formed  them- 
selves not  in  the  image  of  his  own  sex,  but  of  a  young 
girl,  fragile  and  unprotected,  innocent,  with  the  dawn- 
ing wonder  of  the  world  in  her  eyes,  light  of  foot, 
warm  of  voice,  with  the  feeling  of  the  young  season 
of  spring  in  the  rustle  of  her  garments. 

Then  he  had  met  Dore. 


88 

He  had  met  her  through  the  daughter  of  a  western 
business  acquaintance,  who  had  confided  her  to  his 
care.  From  the  first  meeting,  he  had  felt  a  turbulent 
awakening  in  him  at  the  sight  of  her  glowing  youth. 
At  the  thought  of  her,  so  inexperienced  and  candid, 
subject  to  all  the  hard  shocks  of  metropolitan  strug- 
gle, standing  so  fragile  and  alone  amid  the  perils,  the 
temptations  and  the  hunger  of  the  flaring  city,  he 
had  felt  an  instant  desire  to  step  between  her  and 
this  huddled  snatching  mob,  to  give  her  everything, 
to  make  all  possible  to  her,  to  watch  her  face  flush 
and  her  eyes  sparkle  at  the  possession  of  each  new 
delight  that  youth  craves.  But  other  thoughts  came, 
and  he  began  to  suffer  keenly,  afraid  of  fantastic  per- 
ils that  tossed  before  him  in  his  silent  hours.  If, 
after  all,  she  should  find  him  ridiculous  —  he  an  old 
man,  and  she  so  fresh,  so  delicate!  Then  another 
horrible  fear  came.  What  did  he  know  of  her  —  of 
any  woman?  If  he  were  deceived,  after  all?  He  be- 
came suspicious,  watching  her  with  a  woman's  spying 
for  significant  details,  alarmed,  poised  for  instant 
flight. 

This  was  the  man  who  was  waiting  for  her  in  the 
long  corridor  of  the  Waldorf-Astoria,  black  coat  over 
his  arm,  derby  in  hand,  not  too  portly,  not  too  bald, 
square-toed,  dressed  in  the  first  pepper-and-salt  busi- 
ness suit,  ready-made,  which  had  been  presented  him, 
low  turn-down  collar,  and  a  light  purple  tie,  likewise 
made  up.  Small  nose  and  aquiline,  eyes  gray  under 
bushy  eyebrows,  lip  obscured  under  heavy  drooping 
fall  of  the  mustache.  He  steadied  himself  on  his 


THE  SALAMANDER  89 

heels,  beating  time  with  his  toes,  wondering  what  oth- 
ers would  think  when  they  saw  he  was  waiting  for  a 
young  and  pretty  girl. 

He  saw  her  flitting  down  the  long  hall,  head  shyly 
down,  light,  graceful,  scattering  imaginary  flowers  on 
her  way;  and  the  sensation  of  life  and  terror  that  she 
set  leaping  within  him  was  so  acute  that  he  pretended 
not  to  perceive  her  until  she  was  at  his  elbow. 

"  It's  very  good  of  you  to  come,"  he  said  at  last, 
when  they  had  reached  their  table  in  a  discreet  corner. 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  me,"  she  said 
instantly,  a  little  touched  by  the  confusion  in  his  man- 
ner. She  understood  the  reason,  and  it  saddened  her 
that  it  should  be  so  —  that  he  could  not  always  be 
kept  just  a  devoted  friend. 

"  I'm  rushing  through ;  wanted  to  know  how  you 
were!" 

"Don't  you  think  I  look  better?"  she  said,  raising 
her  eyes  in  heavy  melancholy.  "  The  champagne  has 
done  wonders." 

He  was  not  able  to  do  more  than  glance  hastily  at 
her. 

"  You  don't  look  yet  as  you  ought  to,"  he  said, 
shaking  his  head.  "  You  need  air.  I  have  a  plan  — 
I'll  tell  you  later." 

"  I'm  taking  fresh  eggs,  two  a  day,"  said  Dore, 
wondering  what  he  had  in  view.  "  Only  it's  so  hard 
to  get  real  fresh  ones ! " 

"  My  dear  girl,  I'll  send  you  the  finest  in  the  mar- 
ket," he  said  joyfully,  delighted  at  the  opportunity  of 
such  a  service. 


90  THE  SALAMANDER 

He  took  out  a  note-book  and  wrote  in  a  light  curved 
hand,  "  Eggs,"  and  replacing  it,  said : 

"  If  I  send  you  a  pint  of  the  finest  dairy  cream  each 
morning,  will  you  promise  faithfully  to  make  an  egg- 
nogg  of  it?  It's  splendid  —  just  what  you  need!" 

"  I'll  do  anything  you  tell  me,"  said  Dore,  genuinely 
touched  by  the  pleasure  in  his  face.  It  was  not  en- 
tirely self-interest  that  had  made  her  lead  up  to  the 
subject,  for  she  could  have  secured  a  response  from  a 
dozen  quarters.  It  was  perhaps  an  instinctive  under- 
standing of  the  man  and  what  it  meant  to  him  to  find 
even  a  small  outlet  to  his  need  of  giving. 

Mr.  Peavey  methodically  had  taken  out  his  memo- 
randum and  by  the  side  of  "  Eggs  "  had  added  "  and 
cream." 

She  would  have  preferred  that  he  should  need  no 
reminders;  but  at  this  moment,  on  taking  up  her  nap- 
kin, she  gave  a  cry  of  pleasure.  Inserted  between  the 
folds  was  a  package  of  tickets.  She  scanned  them 
hastily  —  groups  of  two  for  each  Monday  night  of  the 
opera. 

"  Oh,  you  darling ! "  she  exclaimed,  carried  away 
with  delight. 

He  reddened,  pleased  as  a  boy.  "  Want  you  to 
hear  good  music,"  he  said  in  self-excusation.  "  Shan't 
be  here  always;  you'll  have  to  take  a  friend." 

"  Oh,  but  I  want  to  go  with  you !  "  said  Dore,  genu- 
inely moved. 

"  When  I'm  here  —  can't  tell,"  he  said,  in  the  sev- 
enth heaven  of  happiness.  "  But  I  want  you  to  go 
regularly;  besides,  my  car  is  to  call  for  you." 


THE  SALAMANDER  91 

"  You  are  so  kind,"  said  Dore,  looking  at  him  sol- 
emnly, and  forgetting  for  the  moment  all  thought  of 
calculation.  "  Really,  I  don't  think  there  is  another 
man  in  the  world  so  kind !  " 

"  Nonsense !  Stuff  and  nonsense !  "  he  said,  resort- 
ing hastily  to  a  glass  of  water.  The  waiter  came  up. 
He  took  the  menu  in  hand,  glad  for  the  diversion. 

"  How  good  he  is !  "  she  thought,  watching  the  so- 
licitude with  which  he  studied  the  menu  for  the  dishes 
she  ought  to  take.  "  He  would  do  anything  I  wanted. 
If  he  were  only  a  colonel  or  a  judge!  " 

She  was  thinking  of  the  ponderous  mustache,  and 
wondering  in  a  vague  way  what  it  would  be  like  to  be 
Mrs.  Orlando  B.  Peavey.  Perhaps,  she  could  get 
him  to  cut  his  mustache  like  Harrigan  Blood.  At 
any  rate,  he  ought  to  change  his  tie.  Purple  —  light 
purple!  and  made  up,  too!  With  any  other  man  she 
would  have  attacked  the  offending  tie  at  once,  for  she 
had  a  passion  for  regulating  the  dress  of  her  admir- 
ers; but  with  Mr.  Peavey  it  was  different.  A  single 
suggestion  that  he  could  not  wear  such  a  shade,  and 
she  fancied  she  could  see  him  bolting  through  the  shat- 
tering window. 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  favor  —  a  great  favor,  Miss 
Baxter?"  he  said  finally,  turning  to  her  in  great  em- 
barrassment. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It  would  make  me  happy  —  very  happy,"  he  said, 
hesitating. 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  she  said,  wondering  what  it 
could  be. 


92  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  It's  not  much  —  it  really  is  nothing.  I  mean,  it 
means  nothing  to  me  to  do  it !  It's  this :  I  am  away 
so  much ;  my  car  is  here  —  nothing  to  do ;  you  need  a 
ride, —  good  air  every  afternoon, —  and,  besides,  I 
don't  like  to  think  of  you  going  around  alone  in  taxi- 
cabs  or  street-cars,  unprotected.  The  car  is  standing 
idle ;  it's  bad  for  the  chauffeur.  Won't  you  let  me  put 
it  at  your  disposal  for  the  winter  —  for  a  month,  any- 
way?" 

"  Oh,  but,  Mr.  Peavey,  I  couldn't !     How  could  I  ?  " 

"  You  don't  think  it  would  be  proper?  "  he  said  in 
alarm. 

"  No,  no,  not  that!  "  she  said,  and  a  strange  thought 
was  at  the  back  of  her  head.  "  For  the  opera,  yes ! 
And  occasionally  in  the  afternoon.  But  the  rest  —  it 
is  too  much ;  too  much !  I  couldn't  accept  it !  " 

He  was  immensely  relieved  that  this  was  the  only 
objection. 

"  I  should  feel  you  were  protected,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly. "  That  worries  me.  Such  horrible  things 
happen ! " 

"  But  I  am  a  professional !  I  must  take  care  of 
myself !  "  said  Dore,  with  a  sudden  assumption  of  seri- 
ousness. 

She  began  to  talk  of  her  career,  of  her  independence, 
her  ambitions  —  rapidly,  feeling  that  there  were 
sunken  perils  in  the  course  of  his  conversation. 

"  Really,  it  isn't  difficult.  American  men  are  chiv- 
alrous ;  they  always  protect  a  young  girl  —  really,  I've 
been  surprised!  And  then,  I  don't  think  it's  quite 
right  that  I  should  have  advantages  other  girls  haven't. 


THE  SALAMANDER  93 

If  I'm  going  on  the  stage,  I  should  take  everything  as 
it  comes.  Besides,  it  teaches  me  what  life  is,  doesn't 
it?  Then,  it's  such  fun  being  independent,  and  mak- 
ing yourself  respected!  By  the  way,  I  feel  so  much 
stronger  now,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  could  be  on  the 
stage  again  soon.  Blainey  wants  to  talk  to  me  —  I 
may  see  him  this  afternoon.  He's  such  a  good  kind 
fellow,  just  like  you,  Mr.  Peavey!  Really,  all  men 
seem  to  try  and  protect  me !  " 

But  the  real  reason  she  did  not  wholly  accept  his 
offer  she  did  not  tell  him. 

"Are  you  sure  you  want  a  career?"  he  said  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  Do  !?...!  don't  know! "  she  said,  eating  hun- 
grily. "  But  you  see  the  trouble  is,  I've  got  to  find 
out !  Oh,  I  don't  want  anything  small !  No  holding 
up  a  horse  in  the  back  row  of  an  extravaganza,  as  Ida 
says !  " 

"You  won't  like  the  life!  .  .  ." 

"  Won't  I  ?  Perhaps  not !  .  .  .  I  know  some 
women  have  a  bad  time!  But  every  one  looks  after 
me!  .  .  ." 

She  shifted  the  conversation  to  his  interests,  and 
kept  it  there,  with  one  eye  on  the  clock.  It  was  diffi- 
cult choosing  her  questions,  for  all  would  not  do. 
For  instance,  she  wished  to  ask  him  why  he  did  not 
stop  working  and  enjoy  his  money;  but  that  would 
have  opened  up  a  direct  and  personal  reply. 

"  Why  do  you  work  so  hard  ?  "  she  said,  instead. 

"  I've  got  to  do  something !  "  he  answered ;  "  and, 
besides,  I'm  on  the  point  of  something  big  —  if  I  carry 


94  THE  SALAMANDER 

it  through.     In  another  year  I'll  be  a  rich  man  —  quite 
a  rich  man !  " 

He  looked  away  as  he  said  it,  ashamed,  knowing  at 
heart  why  he  had  offered  it  up  to  her  thus  against 
his  fifty  years !  But  in  a  moment,  chirping  ahead  rap- 
idly, she  had  put  him  at  his  ease,  and  keeping  the  con- 
versation on  light  topics,  avoided  further  dangers. 

He  left  her  with  stiff  formal  bows,  placing  her  in 
his  automobile  and  giving  the  chauffeur  directions. 

The  car  went  smoothly  through  the  crush.  It  was 
a  good  car, —  she  was  a  judge!  —  in  perfect  order. 
Whatever  Peavey  did  was  always  of  the  best.  The 
chauffeur  had  quite  an  air,  too.  She  disturbed  the 
heavy  fur  rugs  that  had  been  so  carefully  wrapped 
about  her  little  feet,  sunk  her  head  gratefully  against 
the  cushions,  and  thought,  with  a  long  easy  breath : 

"Well,  that's  one  thing  I  could  do!" 

She  began  to  consider  it  from  all  points  of  view: 

"  I  wonder  what  it'd  be  like  to  be  Mrs.  Orlando  B. 
Peavey?" 

An  automobile  —  two  or  three;  seats  at  the  opera 
—  a  box  in  the  upper  row,  perhaps;  a  big  house;  big 
dinners.  Or,  better  still,  travel,  strange  countries,  cu- 
rious places.  Then  she  remembered  the  mustache. 
On  a  colonel  or  a  judge,  perhaps.  What  a  pity  he 
wasn't  either!  To  be  the  young  wife  of  a  colonel  or 
a  judge  was  quite  distinguished! 

He  was  good,  kind,  gentle.  She  might  even  go  in 
for  charity.  Perhaps,  after  ten  or  fifteen  years,  she 
might  be  left  a  widow,  with  lots  of  money.  Fifteen 
was  rather  long  —  ten  would  be  better !  There  was  a 


THE  SALAMANDER  95 

girl  she  knew  who  had  married  an  old  man  worth  ten 
millions,  who  had  died  before  the  year  was  out.  What 
luck!  But  then,  all  husbands  are  not  so  obliging! 

This  reverie  did  not  last  long.  She  tied  it  up,  so 
to  speak,  in  a  neat  package  and  put  it  in  a  pigeonhole. 
It  was  comforting  to  think  of  it  as  a  possibility !  Why 
had  he  offered  her  his  automobile  every  day  —  just 
for  her  own?  Was  it  pure  generosity,  or  was  there 
something  else?  She  smiled;  such  motives  she  read 
easily.  Wasn't  it,  in  fact,  to  know  what  her  daily 
life  was!  —  whom  she  saw,  where  she  went,  to  know 
absolutely,  before  he  took  the  final  plunge  ?  She  smiled 
again.  She  was  sure  there  was  something  of  all  this 
in  the  gift,  and  leaning  forward,  she  sought  to  study 
the  face  of  Brennon,  the  chauffeur,  wondering  if  she 
could  make  him  an  ally,  could  trust  him  —  if  he  were 
human. 

She  had  no  time  for  conversation.  Hardly  had  she 
arrived  before  Miss  Pirn's  than  she  perceived  Sas- 
soon's  automobile  turning  the  corner.  She  did  not 
wish  to  meet  him  thus,  though  she  was  not  sorry  that 
he  had  seen  her  return.  So  she  ran  hastily  up-stairs 
to  her  room,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  a  quick  change 
of  toilet  when  Josephus  brought  the  card. 

"Tell  him  to  wait!" 

She  took  pains  that  this  waiting  should  not  be  too 
short,  maliciously  studying  the  clock  for  a  good  twenty 
minutes  before,  prepared  for  the  street,  she  went  down. 

"  Now  to  be  a  desperate  adventuress,"  she  thought 
to  herself;  and  assuming  a  languid  indifferent  man- 
ner, she  entered  the  room. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SASSOON  was  on  his  feet,  moving  restlessly,  as 
she  entered.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  be  kept 
waiting,  and  to  wait  half  an  hour  after  he  had  seen 
her  enter  just  ahead  of  him  was  interminably  vexing. 
And  yet,  he  was  profoundly  grateful  for  this  teasing 
delay.  It  awakened  him;  it  made  him  hope.  There 
was  a  resistance,  a  defiance,  in  it  that  was  as  precious 
as  it  was  rare.  He  had  wondered  much  about  her  as 
he  moved  with  slow  irritation,  stopping  occasionally 
to  catch  a  reflection  in  the  foggy  mirror  of  his  long, 
oriental,  slightly  hanging  head,  and  the  grizzled  mus- 
tache which,  with  its  mounting  W,  gave  to  his  dulled 
eyes  a  sharp  staccato  quality  of  a  blinking  bird  of  prey. 
The  drawing-room,  or  parlor,  was  like  ten  thousand 
other  parlors  of  boarding-houses  —  brown,  musty, 
with  an  odor  of  upholstery  and  cooking,  immense  tab- 
leaux sunk  into  the  obscurity  of  the  walls,  imitation 
Dresden  shepherdesses  on  the  mantel,  an  album  of 
Miss  Pirn's  on  the  table  and  a  vase  containing  dried 
flowers,  cheap  furniture,  a  crippled  sofa  placed  in  a 
shadow,  and  weighing  down  all,  the  heavy  respectability 
of  a  Sunday  afternoon.  Occasionally  the  front  door 
opened  to  a  latch-key,  and  a  feminine  form  flitted  by 
the  doorway,  always  pausing  curiously  to  survey  the 

96 


THE  SALAMANDER  97 

parlor  before  sorting  the  mail  that  lay  displayed  on  the 
seat  of  the  hat-rack. 

Once  a  couple  with  cheery  voices  came  full  into 
the  room  before  perceiving  his  tenancy.  They  with- 
drew abruptly,  and  he  heard  the  girl  saying  to  her  es- 
cort: 

"  Oh,  well,  come  up  to  the  room ;  there's  never  a 
chance  at  the  old  parlor! " 

This  mediocrity,  this  quiet,  these  flitting  forms  of 
young  women,  the  cub  escort  who  was  privileged  to 
enjoy  intimacy,  strangely  excited  him.  There  was 
something  really  romantic  in  following  a  fancy  into 
such  a  lair,  and  the  longer  the  plaguing  clock  sounded 
its  tinny  march,  the  more  vibrantly  alert  he  felt,  in 
the  anticipation  of  her  coming. 

"  I  saw  you  come  in !  "  he  said  directly.  He  did  not 
move  forward,  but  stood  blinking  at  her  like  a  night- 
bird  disturbed  in  the  day.  "  You've  kept  me  waiting 
quite  a  while,  young  lady." 

"  Really?"  she  said  indifferently.  She  stopped  in 
the  middle  of  the  room.  "  Well,  Pasha,  do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  come  to  you?  " 

He  roused  himself,  hastily  advancing.  In  truth, 
waiting  for  others  to  throw  themselves  at  him  had  be- 
come such  a  habit  that  he  had  not  noticed  the  omis- 
sion. 

"  Pardon  me !  I  was  enjoying  —  you  are  a  de- 
lightful picture !  "  he  said  in  his  silky  voice. 

She  accepted  the  evasion  with  an  unduped  smile. 

"  You  are  lucky  to  catch  me  at  all,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  an  engagement  up-town  at  three." 


98  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Do  you  always  wear  the  national  costume  ?  "  he 
said,  indicating  her  Russian  blouse. 

"  Yes,  always." 

"  But  my  flowers,  Miss  Baxter?  "  he  said,  standing 
after  she  had  motioned  him  to  a  seat;  and  the  glance 
from  under  the  prominent,  hanging  upper  lids,  that 
half  covered  the  irises,  seemed  to  sift  wearily  down  at 
her. 

"  Your  flowers  ?     What  flowers  ?     Sit  down !  " 

"  My  orchids  —  yesterday  — " 

"  Oh !  Your  orchids."  She  stopped  suddenly,  as 
though  confused.  "You  won't  be  angry?  I  know 
you  won't  when  I  tell  you  about  it!  I  gave  them 
away." 

He  took  his  seat,  rubbed  the  back  of  one  hand  with 
long  soft  ringers,  and  slowly  raised  his  mocking  glance 
to  hers. 

"  Ah  —  you  gave  them  away?  " 

"  Yes !  and  you'll  quite  approve,"  she  said,  meeting 
his  inquisitorial  scrutiny  without  confusion.  "  I'll  tell 
you  just  how  it  was.  I  have  a  protegee,  an  old 
woman  who  sells  newspapers  under  the  elevated  sta- 
tion—  such  an  old  woman!  If  I  were  rich  I'd  send 
her  off  to  a  farm  and  make  her  happy  for  the  rest  of 
her  life !  The  first  day  I  came  to  New  York  I  hadn't 
any  money.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do !  I  sold  news- 
papers !  " 

"You?" 

"  Yes!  You  didn't  hear?  Oh,  it  made  quite  a  fuss 
at  the  time !  The  newspapers  had  it,  *  Mysterious  So- 
ciety Woman  Sells  Papers.'  And  I  made  a  lot  of 


THE  SALAMANDER  99 

money  —  no  change,  naturally!  Too  bad  I  didn't 
know  you  then ;  you  would  have  paid  at  least  a  dollar 
a  paper ! " 

She  laughed  gaily,  a  little  excited  at  the  recollection. 

"  It  was  quite  romantic !  Well,  my  old  woman  gave 
me  the  idea.  She's  been  my  mascot  ever  since. 
Every  day  I  get  my  papers  from  her.  Last  night, 
coming  back  after  a  spin,  I  stopped  as  usual.  I  had 
the  orchids  here  at  my  waisi ;  I  noticed  her  eying  them. 

"  '  What  are  you  looking  at?     These?  '  I  asked. 

"  She  bobbed  her  head.  She  has  only  five  teeth  — 
the  funniest  teeth!  You  ought  to  see  them;  none  of 
them  meet. 

"  '  At  these  flowers  ? ' 

"  She  bobbed  again. 

"'You  like  flowers?' 

"  Then  she  came  up  close  to  me  —  the  way  old  peo- 
ple do,  you  know  —  and  said  in  my  ear : 

"  '  When  I  was  your  age,  my  darling,  I  had  flowers, 
like  those,  every  day ! ' 

"  And  she  drew  back,  nodding  and  bobbing,  smiling 
her  toothless  smile." 

Dore  stopped,  pressed  her  hand  to  her  throat  and 
said  in  a  muffled  voice : 

"  It  just  took  me.  Something  came  right  up  in  my 
throat  —  I  could  have  cried!  I  tore  them  off  and 
threw  them  in  her  arms.  If  you  could  have  seen  the 
look  she  gave  me !  She  kissed  them.  Ah !  it  made  me 
very  happy,  I  can  tell  you!  " 

Did  he  believe  her?  He  didn't  care!  Perhaps  he 
preferred  that  it  should  have  been  invented. 


ioo  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  It  will  mean  a  great  deal  to  her,"  he  said,  his  eyes 
on  hers  —  his  eyes,  that  began  to  light  up  as  lanterns 
showing  through  the  fall  of  night. 

"  It  will  mean  a  great  deal!  "  she  said,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  such  beatitude  that  his  abiding  doubt  be- 
gan to  waver.  "  I  just  couldn't  have  kept  them !  " 

"  I  want  you  to  lunch  with  me  —  to-morrow,"  he 
said  slowly. 

"Where?" 

"  In  my  apartments.  They  overlook  the  park.  It's 
quite  delightful." 

He  watched  her  eagerly,  for  eagerness  could  occa- 
sionally show  on  his  face,  as  a  sudden  joy  may  recall 
a  past  youth  to  the  face  of  a  mature  woman.  She  con- 
sidered thoughtfully: 

"To-morrow?    At  what  time?" 

"  At  one,"  he  said ;  and  she  noticed  again  the  curious 
gesture  of  his  feminine  fingers  sliding  caressingly  over 
the  back  of  his  hand. 

"  One's  all  right.  I'll  be  delighted  to  meet  Mrs. 
Sassoon." 

He  raised  his  head  with  an  ironical  smile;  but  the 
smile  fled  as  he  noticed  that  her  face  was  blankly  seri- 
ous. 

"  I  don't  like  that!  "  he  said  abruptly. 

"What?" 

"  You  know  very  well  I  am  not  inviting  you  to  meet 
my  wife." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me,  then,  Mr.  Sassoon  ?  " 
she  said  calmly,  looking  directly  at  him  with  her 
cloudy  blue  eyes  of  a  child. 


THE  SALAMANDER  101 

He  rose,  nonplused,  walked  to  the  window  and 
slowly  back.  What  was  she  —  straightforward  or 
deep  ?  Did  she  wish  to  come  directly  to  a  business  un- 
derstanding, or  —  or  was  she  truly  independent  and 
seeking  this  method  to  terminate  the  acquaintance? 
An  instinct  warned  him  of  the  danger  in  an  answer. 
He  returned,  and  said,  leaning  on  the  mantelpiece : 

"  Bring  a  friend,  if  you  wish.  I'll  have  in  the 
Comte  de  Joncy.  .  .  .  You've  aroused  his  curios- 
ity-" 

"  At  your  private  apartments  ?  " 

"Of  course!" 

"No!" 

"  At  Tenafly's,  then." 

"  At  Tenafly's  —  down-stairs  —  yes !  " 

"A  party  of  four?" 

"  No.  Come  to  think  of  it,  it'll  be  more  interesting 
just  with  you." 

This  unexpected  answer,  said  in  the  most  natural 
manner  imaginable,  perplexed  him  more  than  ever. 
She  noticed  it,  quite  delighted  at  the  helplessness  of  the 
experienced  hunter. 

"  You  won't  lunch  in  a  party  of  four  at  my  apart- 
ments, but  you  will  lunch  with  me  alone  at  a  public 
restaurant." 

"  Quite  so !  " 

"  And  your  reputation?  " 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  reputation  —  my  security ! 
I  wouldn't  trust  you  —  that's  all !  " 

He  didn't  choose  to  discuss  this,  but  sought  to  give 
the  conversation  a  different  turn. 


IO2 

"  You  are  satisfied  with  this  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  sud- 
den crook  of  his  arm. 

"  You  are  delightfully  direct,  aren't  you?  "  she  said. 
"  You  usually  don't  have  so  much  trouble  coming  to 
an  understanding  with  women,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  to  know  ?  " 

"  I'm  curious  to  see  how  you  live  —  your  room  — " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  That  you'll  never  see." 

"But—" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  make  a  difference.  There  are  men  you 
receive  in  your  room,  and  men  you  receive  always  in  a 
parlor,  and  there's  no  trouble  at  all  in  classifying 
them!"  She  jumped  up,  with  a  laugh.  "And  you, 
with  all  your  experience  among  my  sex,  can't  make  up 
your  mind  about  me." 

"You  pay  what?  Eight  —  ten  — fifteen  a  week. 
And  you  have  your  automobile,"  he  said,  pursuing  his 
idea. 

"  Ah,  that's  it !  Have  I  an  auto  or  not  ?  But  that's 
not  what  you  want  to  know!  You  want  to  know  if 
some  one  gives  me  an  automobile,  and,  if  so,  why? 
Well,  have  I  or  haven't  I?  Find  out! " 

"  You  know,"  he  said  in  his  deliberate  dragging 
way,  "  I  don't  believe  that  story  about  the  orchids !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  said,  with  such  a  swift 
turn  from  provoking  malice  to  erect  gravity  that  he 
hesitated. 

"  There  was  a  hundred-dollar  bill  in  that  bouquet, 
Miss  Baxter !  "  he  said,  changing  the  attack  slightly. 


THE  SAUAMANDER  103 

"  A  hundred!  "  she  said,  drawing  herself  up  in  sur- 
prise and  scorn.  "Ah !  now  I  understand  —  everything. 
So  that's  why  you  are  here !  To  get  your  value !  " 

"  No  —  no,"  he  protested,  confused. 

"  Now  I  see  it  all ! "  she  continued,  as  if  suddenly 
enlightened.  "  Of  course,  such  presents  are  quite  in 
order  as  mementoes  when  young  ladies  of  the  chorus 
are  entertained  by  you.  But  you  weren't  sure  of  me? 
You  wanted  to  know  if  I  would  take  it!  For,  of 
course,  that  would  simplify  things,  wouldn't  it?" 

"  Do  you  regret  giving  it  away?  "  he  said,  convinced, 
watching  her  with  his  connoisseur  gaze. 

She  stopped. 

"  That  is  insulting !  "  she  said,  so  simply  that  he 
never  again  recurred  to  the  subject.  "  Now,  Mr.  Sas- 
soon,  I  am  going  to  play  fair  with  you.  I  always  do 
—  at  first.  '  I  am  not  like  other  girls.  I  do  play  fair. 
I  give  one  warning  —  one  only  —  and  then,  take  the  ; 
consequences ! " 

"  And  what  is  your  warning,  pretty  child?  "  he  said, 
with  a  faint  echo  of  excitement  in  his  voice. 

'''  You  will  lose  your  time!  "  she  said,  dropping  him 
a  curtsy.  "You  wish  to  know  what  I  am?  I  won't 
give  you  the  slightest  hint !  I  may  be  a  desperate  ad- 
venturess, or  I  may  be  a  pretty  child;  but  I  tell  you 
frankly,  now  —  once  only  —  you  had  better  take  your 
hat  and  go !  You  won't  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  stubbornly. 

11  Very  well !  You  will  regret  it !  Only,  be  very 
careful  what  you  say  to  me,  and  how  you  say  it.  Do 
you  understand  ?  " 


104  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  And  you  will  lunch  with  me  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"Why?" 

"  Two  reasons  —  to  tantalize  you,  and  because  I 
am  the  most  curious  little  body  in  the  world !  There ! 
That's  quite  frank !  "  She  glanced  at  the  clock,  which 
had  gone  well  past  the  hour.  <r  Now  I  must  be  off  — 
I  shall  be  late,  as  it  is !  " 

He  glanced,  in  turn,  at  his  watch. 

"  And  I've  been  keeping  a  board  of  directors  cursing 
me  for  half  an  hour  —  very  important  board,"  he  said, 
grinning  at  the  thought  of  their  exasperation  if  they 
should  be  privileged  to  see  the  cause  of  his  delay. 

"  Really  ? "  she  exclaimed,  delightfully  flattered. 
"  Then  you  can  keep  them  waiting  some  more ! 
Your  car's  here?  Very  well;  take  me  up  to  the  Tem- 
ple Theater,  stage  entrance." 

It  was  not  in  his  plan  thus  publicly  to  accompany 
her.  Not  that  he  cared  about  his  ghost  of  a  reputa- 
tion !  But  to  arrive  thus  at  a  stage  entrance,  dancing 
attendance  on  a  little  Salamander,  savored  too  much 
of  the  debutant,  the  impressionable  and  gilded  cub. 
To  another  woman  he  would  have  refused  peremp- 
torily, with  short  excuse,  packing  her  off  in  the  auto- 
mobile, and  going  on  foot  to  his  destination.  But 
with  Miss  Baxter  he  had  a  feeling  that  she  would  ex- 
act it,  and  a  fear  that  somehow  she  was  waiting  an 
excuse  to  slip  from  him,  a  fear  of  losing  her. 

"  I  am  waiting !  "  she  said  impatiently. 

"What  for?"  he  asked,  coming  abruptly  out  of  his 
abstraction. 


THE  SALAMANDER  105 

"  For  you  to  hand  me  in,  Pasha !  " 

He  gave  her  his  hand  hurriedly,  capitulated  and 
took  his  seat  in  turn.  She  guessed  his  reasons,  and 
watched  him  mockingly,  sunk  in  her  corner.  The 
melancholy  and  the  weakness  of  yesterday  were  gone  ; 
she  was  again  the  gay  little  Salamander,  audacious 

^ 

and  reckless,  sublimely  confident  in  the  reserves  of  her 
imagination  to  extricate  her  from  any  peril. 

"  The  warning  holds  until  to-morrow  morning," 
she  said,  her  eyes  sparkling,  the  mood  dramatized  in 
every  eager  and  malicious  expression. 

He  did  not  answer,  aroused  and  retreating  by  turns, 
uncomfortable,  irritated  and  yet  resolved.  Had 
Dore  known  the  fires  she  had  kindled  and  the  ends  to 
which  he  was  capable  of  going,  perhaps  she  would  not 
have  felt  so  audaciously  triumphant. 

As  they  swung  from  Broadway  into  the  crowded, 
narrow  side  street,  quite  a  group  was  before  the  en- 
trance—  a  knot  of  stage-hands  loafing  outside  for 
a  smoke,  Blainey  himself  in  conversation  with  an 
actress  who  was  speaking  to  him  from  another  auto- 
mobile, and  three  or  four  of  the  personnel  of  the  thea- 
ter awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  manager. 

She  forced  Sassoon  to  descend  and  hand  her  down 
—  Sassoon  rebelling  at  being  thus  paraded  and  recog- 
nized. Then,  with  a  fractional  nod,  she  went  through 
the  group.  All  at  once  some  one,  making  way  for 
her,  lifted  his  hat.  She  looked  up  and  recognized  the 
one  man  she  did  not  wish  to  see  her  thus  in  Sassoon's 
company:  Judge  Massingale,  smiling  his  impersonal, 
tolerantly  amused  smile. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHEN  she  had  passed  the  familiar  limping  fig- 
ure of  the  guardian  of  the  stage  door,  and  had 
caught  the  sound  of  the  helter-skelter  preparations  be- 
hind the  curtains  —  the  ring  of  hammers,  the  hoarse 
shouts  into  the  rafters,  the  green-and-gold  filmy  sheen 
of  the  scenery,  the  groups  in  costume,  chattering  in 
the  wings,  the  busy  black-hatted,  coatless  stage-hands 
tearing  about  —  Dore  felt  that  tingling  of  the  nerves 
that  comes  to  the  crutched  veteran  when  the  regiment 
passes.  She  adored  this  life  with  a  keen  excited  zest. 
Its  unrealities  were  vitally  real,  its  Lilliputian  sultans 
and  pashas  great  potentates.  She  adored  it  —  but 
she  was  not  yet  decided.  To  have  been  certain  of 
succeeding  would  have  seemed  to  her  the  fullest  of 
life;  but  she  was  not  so  blinded  by  the  dazzling  light 
of  success  as  not  to  perceive  clearly  the  barrenness  of 
its  mediocrity  and  the  horror  of  its  failure. 

She  passed  into  the  theater,  which  seemed  to 
swallow  her  up  in  its  impenetrable  embrace.  She 
stood  a  moment,  peering  into  the  darkness,  seeing 
only  a  great  red  eye  above,  ghostly  draperies  in  the 
galleries,  and  in  the  mysterious  catacombs  below  a 
vague  flitting  figure  stumbling  to  a  seat.  Then,  her 
eyes  growing  accustomed  to  the  obscurity,  she  put 

106 


THE  SALAMANDER  107 

out  her  hand  and  felt  her  way  along  the  empty  seats, 
with  their  damp  musty  shrouds. 

The  curtain  was  up  on  the  set  for  the  first  act, 
which  had  been  ended  ten  minutes  before.  They  had 
been  rehearsing  since  noon;  the  probabilities  were 
they  would  continue  long  past  midnight.  On  the 
stage,  O'Reilly  of  the  "  props  "  was  swearing  hoarsely 
at  the  calcium  light  in  the  ceilings,  throwing  on  reds 
and  blues  with  a  rapid  succession  that  blinded  the 
eyes.  Baum  was  cursing  the  scene-shifters,  cjamor- 
ing  for  more  verdure.  Trimble,  the  stage-manager, 
was  in  the  center  of  the  stage,  rearranging  a  scene 
with  the  soubrette  and  the  heavy  comic.  In  the  house 
itself,  back  of  the  orchestra,  in  the  dim  lobby  with 
its  dungeon  reflections  from  the  street,  the  chorus 
girls  and  men  were  busily  rehearsing  a  new  step  that 
had  just  been  given  them,  humming  as  they  balanced 
on  their  toes,  took  hands  and  twined  about  their  part- 
ners, who,  with  a  final  twirl,  sank  on  their  knees  to 
receive  them.  As  the  step  was  complicated,  every- 
where murmurs  of  expostulation  and  protest  were 
heard : 

"  Stupid !     Not  that  way !  " 

"  One,  two  —  one,  two  —  one,  two,  three !  " 

"  Catch  me." 

"No!    I  go  first." 

"  Gee !  what  an  ice- wagon !  " 

"To  the  left,  I  told  ye!" 

Dodo,  dodging  swaying  bodies  and  arms  extended 
in  swimming  gestures,  found  the  center  aisle,  and  her 
eyes  acquiring  more  vision,  began  to  explore  the  ob- 


io8  THE  SALAMANDER 

scurities.  Above  the  orchestra,  Felix  Brangstar,  his 
head  crowned  with  a  slouch  hat,  stripped  to  shirt  and 
crossed  pink  suspenders,  angry,  hot  and  on  edge,  was 
screaming  to  the  flutes  orders  to  transpose  certain 
measures.  O'Reilly  continued  to  shout: 

"  Blind  that !  Throw  on  the  whites.  Damn  you, 
will  you  throw  on  your  whites?  Hold  that!" 

Trimble,  on  the  stage,  was  taking  the  part  of  the 
soubrette,  skipping  about  the  heavy  comic,  coquetting 
and  dodging  under  his  arm,  while  the  air  was  charged 
with  electric  comments: 

"  Lower  away !     More  —  more !  " 

"  Is  Blainey  here  yet?  " 

"Where's  Benton?" 

"Switch  that  table  over!" 

"  Throw  on  your  borders !  " 

"  B  flat,  then  the  chord  of  A." 

"  That's  cut  out.     Yes  —  yes!  " 

"  Try  that  curtain  again." 

"  Bring  it  down  slow.  No !  God !  Carey,  do  you 
call  that  slow?  Again!" 

The  piece  was  a  truly  fairy-like  creation  of  a  modern 
Offenbach,  romantic  in  libretto,  distinguished  and  deli- 
cate in  music,  a  true  operetta  of  the  sort  that  ten 
years  from  now  will  take  its  just  place  as  a  work  of 
art,  no  longer  subject  to  the  mutilations  and  humilia- 
tions that  now  attend  such  Americanizations  into  the 
loosely  tied  vaudeville  numbers  justly  termed  comic 
opera. 

At  this  moment  some  one  touched  Dore  on  the  arm, 
and  looking  up,  she  beheld  Roderigo  Sanderson.  In 


THE  SALAMANDER  109 

the  shadow  she  perceived  nothing  but  the  flash  of  a 
diamond  stick-pin  and  the  white  sheen  of  his  collar, 
while  an  odor  of  perfume  distilled  itself  from  the 
handkerchief  he  wore  in  his  sleeve  and  the  heavy 
curls  on  his  forehead. 

"You  here?" 

"  T.  B.  wants  to  see  me,"  he  answered,  giving 
Blainey,  with  the  American  passion  for  intimacy, 
the  initials  under  which  he  was  known  from  one  end 
of  the  Rialto  to  the  other.  He  took  a  seat  back  of 
her,  leaning  over  her  shoulder,  speaking  in  a  guarded 
tone  in  the  mezzo-Anglican  accent  which  he  had  al- 
most acquired. 

"  It's  uncommon  good,  you  know.  Saw  it  in 
Vienna.  A  gem!  Trimble  has  really  staged  it  jolly 
well.  Sada  Quichy  —  they've  imported  her,  you 
know  —  really  knows  a  bit  about  singing  as  well  as 
dancing.  If  they'd  put  it  on  as  it  is  now,  it  would 
go  big  —  by  jove,  it  would  be  a  revolution!  But  they 
won't.  The  slaughter-house  gets  a  chance  at  it  to- 
day. You'll  see  what's  left  after  T.  B.  gets  his  meat- 
ax  into  it ! " 

"Who's  in  the  stage-box?"  said  Dore  curiously. 

'  The  silent  partners,"  said  Sanderson,  with  a 
laugh.  "  Look  at  the  brutes !  They're  in  a  fog  —  in 
a  panic!  They  already  see  their  money  flowing  in  a 
gutter.  Never  mind!  they'll  get  a  bit  more  cheery 
when  T.  B.  begins  his  popularizing.  It'll  be  quite 
amusing.  I  always  get  to  these  executions.  It's  a 
brutal  appetite,  but  it  sort  of  consoles  one,  you  know !  " 

In  the  box,  the  silent  partners,  Guntz,  Borgfeldt 


no  THE  SALAMANDER 

and  Keppelman,  suddenly  enriched  commission  agents 
from  the  Central  West,  new  to  the  dishabille  of  the 
theater,  sat  motionless,  three  black,  ill-smelling  cigars 
on  parade,  three  enormous  bodies,  tortured  by  tight 
collars,  tight  vests,  tight  chairs,  each  derby  set  over 
one  ear  to  shade  the  fat  folds  of  the  jowled  head. 
Sanderson  had  made  no  mistake:  the  exquisite  and 
melodious  first  act  had  left  them  absolutely  petrified 
with  horror. 

Sanderson,  au  courant,  continued  his  exposition 
after  a  preparatory  glance  around  the  stalls. 

"  They  say  they've  made  millions.  How  the  deuce 
did  L.  and  B."  (the  theatrical  firm  of  Lipswitch  and 
Berger)  "ever  entice  them  into  it?  They  say  they're 
back  of  the  firm  for  a  third  in  everything!  I'd  give 
a  good  deal,  now,  to  see  the  contract  those  bandits 
drew  up  for  mutual  protection!  Jove!  that  would  be 
a  curiosity !  " 

At  that  moment,  when  the  stage  was  in  a  bedlam, 
with  the  cross-fire  of  the  stage-manager  coaxing  on 
the  soubrette,  Brangstar  furiously  reprimanding  the 
little  polyglot  tenor,  who  sang  of  "  lof,"  and  was  in- 
sufferably pleased  with  his  slender  legs,  Baum  moving 
indifferently  in  the  confusion,  giving  ideas  for  the 
readjustment  of  the  ravine  and  the  bridge,  O'Reilly 
darkening  the  blue  lights  to  try  the  effect  of  dawn, 
despite  the  complaints  of  the  dressmaker,  who  was 
defending  her  costumes  and  endeavoring  to  save  the 
hussar  boots  of  the  chorus  girls  by  a  bolder  rearrange- 
ment of  the  draperies  —  in  the  midst  of  this  inferno, 


THE  SALAMANDER  in 

Blarney  came  shouldering  in,  the  reverberations  of  his 
deep  bass  stilling  the  uproar. 

"First  act,  now.  Get  at  it!  Don't  bring  me  in 
here,  O'Reilly,  for  a  rehearsal  on  lights.  Ring  down 
your  curtain.  Gus,  want  to  hear  that  overture! 
Let's  get  at  it,  boys !  " 

"  All  on  stage  for  first  curtain !  " 

Instantly  there  was  a  scurrying  of  the  chorus  from 
the  lobby  down  the  stage  aisle;  the  dressmaker  went 
hurriedly  over  the  footlights,  via  a  box;  the  curtain 
slowly  settled;  Brangstar  climbed  to  his  chair;  and 
the  voice  of  O'Reilly  floated  out  in  a  final  curse  at 
the  calcium  lights. 

"  Blind  your  blues  and  clear  slow.  Pete,  bring  it 
on  slow  this  time!  Do  you  get  me?  Do  you  get 
me?" 

And  from  above,  the  voice  of  the  labor  union,  un- 
ruffled, neither  to  be  coaxed  nor  driven,  came  im- 
pudently down: 

"Sure  I  get  you!" 

"  Overture,  now.  Then  go  through  the  first  act. 
No  stops ! "  said  Blainey,  lumbering  up  the  aisle. 

Against  the  firefly  lights  of  the  orchestra  his  figure 
showed  like  a  great  barrel,  short  legs  and  short  arms, 
with  the  sense  of  brute  power  in  the  blocked  head 
sunk  in  the  shoulders.  He  came  to  where  they  sat, 
shading  his  eyes.  Sanderson  stood  up  abruptly,  at 
attention. 

"  Hello,  kid !  "  he  said,  perceiving  Dore. 

"Hello,  Blainey!" 


ii2  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  See  you  after  first  act,"  he  said,  leaning  over  the 
chairs  until  they  groaned,  to  take  her  hand  in  his 
enveloping  grasp.  "  Who's  that  with  you  —  the 
judge?  Oh,  Sanderson!  What  are  you  —  oh,  yes, 
I  remember.  Judge,  glad  you  came;  I  want  your 
opinion ! " 

At  this  moment  Massingale  came  down  from  the 
lobby  and  took  a  seat  beside  Dore,  while  Blainey,  re- 
adjusting his  soft  black,  broad-brimmed  hat  with  a 
nervous  revolving  motion,  sauntered  on,  impatient 
at  the  scraping  of  the  violins  and  the  preparatory 
pumping  of  the  horns.  Sanderson,  at  a  nod  from 
Blainey,  had  followed  him  into  the  lobby. 

"Surprised  to  see  me  here?"  said  Massingale,  tak- 
ing his  seat.  "  You  know,  I  turn  up  everywhere. 
I'm  one  of  those  who  circulate.  I  came  with  Sada 
Quichy  —  she's  great  fun !  " 

In  fact,  in  New  York  three  classes  are  privileged 
at  every  door  —  privileged  because  they  have  the 
power  to  make  themselves  feared :  the  politician  in 
office;  the  representative  of  the  press;  and  the  judge 
who,  at  a  word,  can  unloose  the  terrors  of  both  the 
others. 

"  Don't  forget  what  you  told  me  yesterday,"  she 
said,  turning  to  him  directly,  haunted  by  the  malice 
in  his  eyes  when  he  had  seen  her  handed  down  from 
Sassoon's  automobile. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?" 

"  That  you  would  not  misunderstand  me !  " 

"  I  don't ! "  he  said,  after  an  ineffectual  attempt  to 


THE  SALAMANDER  113 

see  her  face.  "  But  —  are  you  strong  enough  to  play 
the  game  you  are  playing?  " 

"Sassoon?" 

"Yes,  Sassoon!" 

She  thought  of  him,  ruffled  and  rebellious,  forced 
to  accompany  her  to  the  stage  entrance.  She  held 
him  in  slight  respect. 

"  Pooh !  Sassoon !  "  She  had  a  feeling  that  this 
man  already  had  her  confidence,  that  she  could  talk 
freely  with  him.  "  Harrigan  Blood,  yes ;  but  not  Sas- 
soon !  " 

"  You  are  wrong  about  Sassoon,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  It  is  not  the  clever  man  that  is  difficult  to  manage ; 
it  is  the  relentless  one !  That's  Sassoon !  " 

"  Did  you  call  yesterday  —  to  warn  me?  "  she  said, 
turning  to  him. 

"  ISJo;  moralizing  is  not  my  forte,"  he  said,  shaking 
his  head.  "  You  are  unusual.  I  should  like  to  watch 
—  your  progress !  " 

"  You  like  to  be  behind  the  scenes  ?  " 

"Adore  it!" 

"  I  wonder  just  what  you  think  of  me,"  she  said 
pensively.  "  Have  you  decided  what  I  am  to  be- 
come ?  " 

"  Yes." 

She  looked  up,  startled. 

"What?" 

"  Oh,  not  now  —  later ;  some  time  when  we  can 
really  talk." 

She  wished  him  to  invite  her,  but  he  was  one  of 


114  THE  SALAMANDER 

those  who  had  the  rare  instinct  of  making  women  be- 
lieve they  were  pursuing  him.  She  was  silent,  think- 
ing, too,  of  Sada  Quichy,  doubly  resolved  to  steal 
him  from  her. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said  suddenly ;  "  we'll  dine  to- 
gether. They'll  go  on  here  till  midnight.  We  can 
bring  back  some  sandwiches  and  cold  chicken  for  the 
prima  donna."  But,  in  her  mind,  she  was  resolved 
that,  once  they  were  at  dinner,  she  would  carry  him 
off  boldly,  Sada  Quichy  or  not. 

"  Splendid ! "  he  said  laconically,  and  prepared  him- 
self for  the  overture,  that  was  being  announced  by  a 
vigorous  lashing  of  the  conductor's  stand. 

Blainey  had  settled  his  body  a  short  way  in  front 
of  them,  ears  pricked  for  the  commercially  vital  waltz 
motif. 

But  in  the  present  overture  this  essential  did  not 
at  once  appear.  The  operetta,  which  had  been  given 
the  name  of  The  Red  Prince,  was  a  fantastic  romance 
of  Hungary,  strangely  endowed  with  an  intelligible 
plot,  and  this  fresh  presentation  of  wild  dancing  mel- 
odies, passionate  strains  of  melancholy  and  yearning, 
abandoned  delight  and  fierce  exultation,  was  summar- 
ized in  the  overture. 

Massingale,  who  was  an  amateur  of  music,  bent 
forward,  breathing  full,  murmuring  his  approbation. 
Dore  too  felt  strangely  lifted  from  herself,  leaping 
along  perilous  heights,  striving  with  invisible  windy 
shapes,  that  caught  her  and  whirled  her,  with  closed 
eyes  and  bated  lips,  in  giddy  whirlpools  or  sudden  lan- 
guorous calms.  All  the  instincts  that  yesterday,  in 


THE  SALAMANDER  115 

the  change  of  the  year,  had  vibrated  to  melancholy, 
now  suddenly  seemed  to  awake  with  the  sufficiency 
of  the  instant.  A  fig  for  the  future!  She  had  a 
need  of  the  present,  of  the  day,  of  the  hour,  gloriously, 
deliciously  stirred  from  blank  realities.  Her  breath 
came  quick,  the  little  nostrils  quivered,  and  glancing 
at  Massingale's  aristocratic  forehead  and  jaw,  she 
found  him  more  than  interesting  —  strong,  virile,  fas- 
cinating in  the  chained-up  impulses  which  a  sudden 
wild  burst  of  the  czardas  brought  glowing  to  his  eyes. 

The  overture  ceased  amid  a  murmur  of  approba- 
tion; she  moved  a  little  way  from  the  shoulder  she 
had  instinctively  approached. 

"  Take  up  that  waltz  again,"  said  Blainey  instantly. 

Brangstar,  as  if  warned  of  what  was  coming,  re- 
belliously  gave  the  signal.  The  motif  occurred  in 
the  middle  of  the  overture,  directly  after  the  czardas. 
It  was  a  tum-ti-tum  but  undeniably  catchy  affair. 

"  Stop  there !  "  Blainey  rose  and  moved  into  the 
aisle.  "  Cut  out  all  that  follows.  No  grand  opera 
stuff  —  we  don't  want  it!  End  with  that  waltz. 
Fake  it.  Play  it  once  pianissimo,  fiddles ;  second  time 
louder  —  bring  in  your  horns.  Then  let  go  with  your 
brass.  Cut  loose.  Soak  it  to  'em!  Start  it  up, 
Gus!" 

Brangstar,  who  had  given  three  fretful  weeks  to 
this  beloved  production,  musician  at  heart,  loathing 
his  servitude  to  Mammon,  seeing  in  the  present  work 
of  art  his  opportunity  to  emerge,  to  do  the  true,  the 
big  thing,  raised  his  fists  in  horror.  He  had  either 
to  burst  into  tears  or  swear.  Swear  he  did,  damning 


ii6  THE  SALAMANDER 

Blainey,  Lipswitch,  the  whole  gang  of  Pharisees  and 
infidels  he  served,  calling  them  every  name  his  rage 
flung  to  his  lips,  vowing  he  never  would  be  a  party 
to  such  an  atrocity. 

Blainey,  composed,  allowed  him  to  vent  his  fury, 
rather  admiring  his  manner.  Brangstar  was  a  valuable 
man,  a  blooded  race-horse  harnessed  to  a  delivery- 
wagon. 

'  You  know  your  music,  Gus ;  I  know  my  public !  " 
he  said  finally.  "  What's  going  to  make  this  opera 
is  just  one  thing  —  what  you  can  get  under  the  skin  of 
your  audience!  We'll  soak  that  waltz  at  'em  until 
every  mother's  son  of  them  goes  out  whistling  it  — 
till  the  whole  town  whistles  it!  That's  success,  and 
I  know  it,  and  you  know  it !  Now,  get  at  it !  " 

When  the  overture  had  been  repeated  as  he  had 
ordered,  Guntz,  Borgfeldt  and  Keppelman  began  to 
warm  up  and  to  slap  one  another  with  delight,  while 
from  the  recesses  of  the  theater  the  shrill  whistle  of 
the  ushers  was  heard  continuing  the  catchy: 

"  Tum-ti-tum-ti, 
Tum-ti-tum-ti,, 
Tum-tum-tum ! " 

Blainey,  not  insensible  to  dramatic  effects,  indi- 
cated the  box,  where  joy  now  reigned,  pursed  his 
lips  and  nodded  knowingly  to  Massingale. 

The  execution  continued  in  the  first  act.  The  waltz 
appeared  only  in  the  third.  Blainey  put  it  forward 
into  the  first,  arranged  for  the  comics  to  give  a  light 
twist  to  it  in  the  second,  and  built  it  up  again  in  the 


THE  SALAMANDER  117 

third,  with  all  the  resources  of  the  chorus  and  re- 
peated encores. 

At  each  moment  he  stopped  the  progress  of  the 
act: 

"Too  pretty,  pretty!     Never  go!     Cut  it!" 

"  Throw  in  some  gags,  there." 

"Rush  it  — rush  it!" 

"  Explode  something,  there." 

"  Trimble,  got  to  get  your  chorus  in  here.  Rush 
'em  in!" 

"  Oh,  that's  enough  atmosphere !  " 

"  The  public  wants  dancing!  " 

"  All  right!     Strike  for  the  second  act!  " 

The  curtain  rolled  down  and  up,  and  the  scene- 
shifters  flung  themselves  on  the  ravine.  Brangstar 
went  out  to  a  saloon,  strewing  curses;  Guntz,  Borg- 
feldt  and  Keppelman  followed  to  celebrate;  and 
Blainey,  moving  up  to  Massingale,  said,  with  a  shrewd 
twinkle : 

"Well,  Judge,  how  do  you  like  the  first  act?" 

"  Tim,  if  I  had  you  before  me  I'd  send  you  up  for 
ten  years ! " 

"  Not  if  you  had  your  money  behind  it,  you' 
wouldn't,"  said  Blainey  good-humoredly.  "  Art  be 
damned.  I'm  here  to  make  money  —  yes,  as  every 
one  else  is,  in  this  town!  I  know  what  the  public 
wants,  and  I  soak  it  to  'em.  Why,  this  show  wouldn't 
run  six  nights  on  a  South  Troy  circuit ! " 

At  this  moment  some  one  whispered  to  him  that 
Sada  Quichy  was  in  hysterics. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Sadie,  anyhow  ? "  said 


n8  THE  SALAMANDER 

Blainey,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  What's  she  kick- 
ing about?  She  gets  twenty  weeks,  whether  we 
smash  or  not.  I  say,  Judge,  go  and  jolly  her  up  a 
bit.  Tell  her  she's  got  a  grand  part!  I  want  to  talk 
business  with  this  little  girl." 

And  without  concerning  himself  further,  he  led 
the  way  to  his  private  office. 

Dore  followed  quietly.  During  the  last  two  hours 
she  had  been  balancing  on  various  emotions.  The 
first  glamour  of  the  intoxicating  overture  had  been 
shattered.  She  looked  on  with  sober  eyes  at  this 
spectacle  of  the  theater  reduced  to  its  materialistic 
verities.  She  was  too  imaginative  not  to  perceive  the 
outrages  committed  in  the  name  of  the  box-office,  and 
too  keen  not  to  credit  Blainey's  logic.  The  fat  idol- 
like  figures  of  Guntz,  Borgfeldt  and  Keppelman  were 
realities,  too;  she  would  have  to  deal  with  that  type, 
too  —  many  of  that  type  —  if  she  chose  to  continue. 
And  she  had  remained  in  long  periods  of  absorption, 
scarcely  hearing  the  remarks  Massingale  whispered 
to  her,  wondering,  trying  to  see  into  the  future,  ask- 
ing herself  if  this  were  to  be  the  solution,  and,  if  it 
were,  how  to  play  it.  Musing  thus,  she  continued 
to  watch  Blainey  closely,  wondering.  Blainey  and 
Harrigan  Blood  were  of  the  same  tribe;  they  could 
not  be  fed  on  sugar-plums! 

The  office  was  a  comfortable,  pleasantly  lighted 
room,  in  the  greatest  disorder  possible.  Blainey  swept 
aside  a  litter  of  papers,  and  sank  into  a  huge  uphol- 
stered chair,  studying  Dore,  who  vaulted  to  a  seat 
on  the  desk. 


THE  SALAMANDER  119 

Seen  in  the  daylight,  his  head  seemed  to  have  been 
scraped  and  roughened  by  the  long  buffeting  of  ad- 
versity and  the  rough  passage  upward.  The  ears 
that  leaped  from  the  solid  head,  the  sharp  pointed 
nose  with  large  nostrils,  the  wide  mouth  of  a  great 
fish,  the  shaggy  brows  and  eyes  of  the  fighter,  the 
thin  gray  cockatoo  rise  of  hair  on  the  forehead  as  if 
grasped  by  an  invisible  hand  —  all  had  about  them 
the  signs  of  the  battler,  whose  defiant  motto  might 
appropriately  have  been :  "  Don't  bump  me !  " 

Blainey  glanced  at  half  a  dozen  telegrams,  news 
from  productions  scattered  over  the  country,  and 
raised  his  glance  again. 

14  You're  not  mixed  up  with  Roderigo  Sanderson, 
are  you? " 

"Who?" 

She  had  taken  off  her  fur  toque  with  a  charming 
gesture  of  intimacy,  and  was  arranging  her  hair  in 
the  opposite  mirror,  her  feet  swinging  merrily. 

"  Sanderson." 

"  Did  you  see  who  brought  me  here  ?  "  she  said  im- 
pertinently. The  answer  saved  the  actor  an  engage- 
ment. With  Blainey  she  assumed  always  the  disdain 
of  a  woman  of  the  world. 

"  Don't  get  mixed  up  with  actors,"  he  persisted,  a 
note  of  jealousy  in  his  voice.  "  Steer  clear !  " 

"  Managers  are  safer,  you  mean !  "  she  said,  laugh- 
ing at  him. 

That  was  not  his  meaning,  but  he  continued: 

"  I  don't  have  to  tell  you  much,  do  I,  kid  ?  " 

"Not  much,  Blainey." 


520  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  That  was  Sassoon  with  you,  eh  ?  " 

"  Albert  Edward  himself,  Blainey,"  she  answered, 
with  an  accented  note  of  pride.  She  knew  the  man 
she  was  dealing  with.  Brutal  and  contemptuous  to 
innocence,  but  bowing  down  with  a  sneaking  admira- 
tion to  the  woman  who  played  the  game  and  won  out, 
not  for  a  moment  did  he  doubt  that  she  was  of  the 
shrewdest  and  the  most  unprincipled.  And  this  con- 
viction stood  like  a  shield  before  her  in  this  room 
where  other  women  had  gone  in  with  a  shrug. 

"Sassoon,  eh?"  he  said  admiringly,  and  he  gave 
vent  to  a  long  whistle.  "  Well,  trim  'em,  kid,  trim 
'em!" 

"  That's  what  I'm  doing,  Blainey,  and  the  finest !  " 

She  took  his  accents,  almost  the  contemptuous 
abruptness  of  his  gestures,  transforming  herself  into 
his  world. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  get  tired  of  all  that?  "  he 
said,  his  eyes  narrowing  covetously.  "  It's  a  short 
game.  This  is  longer,  safer." 

"When?     Pretty  soon,  Blainey." 

"Why  not  now?" 

She  shook  her  head,  laughing. 

"  Too  soon  —  too  soon !  " 

He  reached  over  into  a  drawer  and  drew  out  a  play. 

"  Do  you  see  this?     I'm  keeping  this  for  you!" 

She  opened  her  eyes. 

"Forme?" 

"  There's  a  fortune  in  it.  There's  a  scene  there  " — 
he  swore  appreciatively  — "  it's  all  in  a  scene,  a  trick ; 


THE  SALAMANDER  121 

but  it's  a  winner.  And  I'm  holding  that  for  you, 
kid." 

"  Star  me  ?  "  she  said,  laughing  incredulously. 

"  In  the  third  year  —  yes !  " 

"  Come,  now,  Blainey,  I'm  no  fool.  I'm  not  that 
strong  on  acting! " 

"Acting  be  damned.  Personality!"  he  said, 
slapping  the  table.  "  You've  got  me  —  you  can  get 
them!" 

"Have  I  got  you,  Blainey?"  she  said,  looking  at 
him  boldly. 

"  You  got  me  from  the  first  with  your  impudent 
way,"  he  said  abruptly.  "  I'm  interested  in  you,  kid 

—  particularly   interested!     You   understand   what   I 
mean? " 

"  It's  not  hard  to  understand  you,  T.  B." 
"  I'll  put  you  on  Broadway  in  two  years,"  he  said. 
Then,  bubbling  over  with  enthusiasm,  he  took  up  the 
role  again.  "  God !  there's  a  scene  here  that'll  get 
'em  —  won't  be  a  dry  handkerchief  in  the  house ! " 
He  continued,  his  face  lighting  up  with  sentiment, 
for  scenes  of  virtue  triumphant,  virtue  resisting, 
virtue  rewarded,  genuinely  moved  him  —  on  the  stage : 
"  End  of  second  act,  the  girl  learns  she's  an  intruder 

—  not  Lady  Marjorie,  heiress  to  millions,  but  a  waif, 
substituted,  see?     It's  a  lie,  of  course;  all  works  out 
well  in  the  last  act;  but  you  don't  know  that.     She's 
got  an  exit  there  beats  anything  in  Camill!     Runs 
away,     see?     Leaves     everything  —  jewels,     clothes, 
money,  nothing  belongs  to  her. 


122  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Proud  —  that's  the  idea ;  won't  take  a  thing  — 
nothing!  Just  as  she's  rushing  out,  sees  a  cat,  a 
damned,  bobtailed,  battered  old  kitten  she's  picked  off 
the  streets,  saved  from  a  gang  of  ruffians  in  first  act. 
That's  hers;  in  that  great  gorgeous  palace  —  think  of 
it  —  all  that  is  hers  —  all  she's  a  right  to.  Runs  back, 
grabs  it,  hugs  it  to  her  breast,  and  goes  out!  What 
a  chance!  There's  millions  in  that  cat!  I  saw  it. 
The  play  was  rotten,  but  the  cat  was  there!  That's 
the  kind  of  stuff  that  gets  over,  chokes  you  up,  blinds 
you !  I  know  it  —  I'd  risk  a  fortune  on  it !  " 

"  Sounds  good !  "  she  said,  nodding,  amazed  at  this 
other  side  in  him,  not  yet  comprehending  inconsist- 
encies in  human  nature. 

He  was  off  in  raptures  again,  insisting  on  reading 
the  final  pages.  She  listened  without  hearing,  at- 
tracted and  repulsed,  turn  about,  by  the  man.  When 
he  had  come  to  earth  again,  she  said : 

"  Blainey,  I'm  going  to  send  a  girl  around  to  you 
for  that  part  you  offered  me." 

"  No,  you're  not !  Work  others,"  he  said,  with  a 
snap.  "  Trim  'em,  but  don't  work  me !  I  don't  go 
in  for  charity !  " 

"  Who  said  anything  about  charity?  "  she  answered, 
knowing  the  impracticability  of  such  an  appeal. 
"  I'm  sending  you  some  one  who  can  act  —  Winona 
Horning,  and  a  beauty !  She  was  going  to  take  a  part 
in  one  of  Zeller's  productions,  and  I  told  her  to  hold 
off  until  you  saw  her.  She's  a  friend,  and  I  don't 
want  her  to  lose  time  with  Zeller ! " 

"You  won't  take  it  yourself?" 


THE  SALAMANDER  123 

"  Not  now !  Besides,  when  I  get  ready,  you're 
going  to  place  me  in  a  good  stock  company  first. 
Look  out,  Blainey,"  she  added,  laughing;  "if  I  turn 
serious,  it'll  be  frightful !  " 

He  began,  delighted,  to  sketch  for  her  the  course 
she  should  take,  seeking  to  convince  her  of  her  talents, 
unfolding  to  her  the  methods  he  would  employ.  She 
kept  her  eyes  on  his,  but  she  did  not  hear  a  word. 
The  feeling  of  the  place  possessed  her;  she  could  not 
shake  it  off.  She  felt  already  caught. 

In  reality,  her  reckless  assumption  of  this  part  was 
simply  a  trying  out  of  herself,  an  attempt  to  project 
herself  into  the  future,  to  explore  with  the  eye  where 
the  feet  must  tread.  Not  that  a  career  was  within  her 
serious  intentions.  She  retreated  from  coarseness, 
drawing  her  delicate  skirts  about  her;  yet  it  amused 
her  thus  to  dramatize  herself!  So,  while  one  Dodo 
was  audaciously  playing  at  acting,  another  Dodo  was 
coldly  placing  questions  before  herself. 

"Would  it  be  possible?  Could  I  ever?  Would  it 
be  worth  while  ?  And  Blainey  —  what  would  that 
mean  ?  " 

Then,  as  he  turned  in  the  glare  from  the  window, 
she  noticed  his  vest.  It  was  a  brown  upholstered 
vest  with  purple  sofa  buttons.  Her  reverie  centered 
on  those  buttons,  counting  them,  running  them  up  and 
down;  and  a  curious  idea  came  to  her.  If  by  any 
chance  she  should  go  on  with  a  career,  she  certainly 
would  have  to  make  him  change  that  vest! 

The  idea  of  a  manager,  a  manager  devoted  to  her, 
wearing  a  brown  upholstered  vest  with  purple  sofa 


124  THE  SALAMANDER 

buttons,  offended  her  horribly  —  more  than  other  pos- 
sibilities which  did  not  stare  her  in  the  face.  When 
she  went  off  with  Massingale,  after  the  second  act, 
for  a  hasty  bite,  he  said  to  her: 

"Why  so  solemn?" 

She  was  still  counting  over  that  double  line  of  pur- 
ple sofa  buttons. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THEY  took  their  supper  in  a  near-by  oyster 
house,  invaded  by  a  chattering  throng, 
drummed  over  by  an  indefatigable  orchestra.  She 
had  looked  forward  keenly  to  the  tete-a-tete.  She 
was  terribly  disillusioned.  It  was  not  at  all  excit- 
ing. Conversation  was  impossible,  and  what  they  said 
was  meaningless.  She  became  irritable  and  restless, 
for  she  had  a  feeling  that  she  was  being  defrauded 
—  that  this  man  was  not  like  the  rest,  that  he  was 
one  worth  knowing,  drawing  out,  an  adversary  who 
would  compel  her  to  utilize  all  the  light  volatile  ar- 
tillery of  her  audacious  imagination. 

"  Listen,"  she  broke  out  suddenly,  "  this  is  a  hor- 
rible failure.  I  really  want  to  talk  to  you!  Have 
you  seen  enough  of  the  rehearsal?" 

"Plenty!" 

"  Let's  cut  it,  then !  " 

"  Madame  Quichy  would  never  forgive  me !  " 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  rebuffed. 

"  I'm  out  of  sorts.  You  can  at  least  take  me 
home!" 

"Certainly!" 

Arrived  at  the  house,  she  said  reluctantly: 

"  Well,  come  in  for  just  a  moment!  " 

And  the  parlor  being  occupied,  they  went  to  her 
room. 

125 


126  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Is  Your  Honor  really  going  to  spare  me  ten 
minutes  from  the  fascinating  Sada  Ouichy?  "  she  said, 
pouting,  once  arrived. 

"Ten  hours,  if  you  like!"  he  said,  taking  off  his 
coat  with  a  gesture  of  finality. 

She  was  so  delighted  at  this  unhoped-for  treason 
that  she  clapped  her  hands  like  a  child,  not  perceiving 
how  he  had  made  her  ask  each  time  for  what  he  really 
wanted. 

"You're  really  going  to  stay?" 

"Yes,  indeed!" 

"  How  exciting!  " 

She  let  her  coat  slip  into  his  hands,  and  going  to 
the  mirror,  raised  her  hat  slowly  from  her  rebellious 
golden  curls  with  one  of  those  indescribable,  intimate, 
feminine  gestures  that  have  such  allurement  to  the 
gaze  of  men.  If,  with  Blainey,  she  had  resorted  to 
abrupt  and  dashing  ways,  with  Massingale  she  felt 
herself  wholly  feminine,  sure  that  each  turn  of  her 
head,  line  of  her  body,  or  caressing  movement  of  her 
arms  wrould  find  appreciation. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  over  her  shoulder, 
arching  her  eyebrows  with  eyes  that  seemed  brim- 
ming with  caprice. 

"  You  know,  I  was  quite  determined  you  should 
come!"  she  said,  laughing,  and  with  a  sudden  swift 
passage  of  the  room,  she  darted  on  the  sofa,  curling 
her  legs  under  her,  hugging  her  knees,  and  resting  her 
little  chin  on  them  in  elfish  amusement.  "  Honor 
bright !  Made  up  my  mind  there  in  the  theater !  " 

"So  did  I!"  he  said  frankly. 


THE  SALAMANDER  127 

"  Really?     And  Sada  Quichy?  " 

"  She  is  a  known  quantity !  It's  much  more  amus- 
ing gambling  with  possibilities !  " 

Since  taking  her  coat  he  had  remained  standing, 
examining  the  room  with  a  keen  instinct  for  signifi- 
cant details. 

"Two  beds?" 

"  This  is  Snyder's,"  she  said,  patting  it.  "  She's  re- 
hearsing. Won't  be  home  till  late." 

Without  asking  her  permission,  he  moved  about 
curiously,  smiling  at  the  trunks  which  stood  open,  and 
the  bureaus  with  their  gaping  drawers. 

"Heavens!  everything  is  in  an  awful  mess!"  she 
said,  with  a  little  ejaculation. 

"  Don't  change  it.  I  like  it !  It  looks  real !  "  he 
said,  continuing. 

She  allowed  him  to  pry  into  corners,  watching  him 
from  the  soft  depths  of  the  couch,  a  little  languid  from 
the  varied  emotions  of  the  day,  longing  to  be  rid  of 
the  stiff  pumps  and  the  fatigue  of  her  day  dress.  The 
different  dramatizations  she  had  indulged  in  with 
Peavey,  Sassoon  and  Blainey  had  aroused  her  crav- 
ing for  sudden  transpositions.  If  only  this  should 
not  prove  disappointing!  She  felt  an  exhilarated 
curiosity,  more  stirred  than  ever  before.  Did  he  really 
know  her,  divine  her,  as  she  believed?  How  would 
he  act  ?  Was  he  only  mentally  curious,  or  was  that  a 
clever  mask  for  a  more  personal  interest  ?  She  had  a 
feeling  that  she  had  known  him  for  years,  that  all  they 
could  say  had  been  said  again  and  again. 

He  was  young  at  forty-five,  and  yet  already  gray. 


128  THE  SALAMANDER 

She  liked  that.  Youth  and  gray  hair,  she  thought, 
were  distinguished  in  a  judge.  There  was  an  air  of 
authority  about  him  that  imposed  on  her.  He  did  not 
ask  permission  for  what  he  did,  and  yet  it  carried  no 
offense.  He  was  dressed  perfectly,  and  that  counted 
for  much  with  her  —  so  perfectly  that  she  did  not 
even  notice  what  he  wore,  except  that  the  tones  were 
soft  and  gave  her  a  sensation  of  pleasure,  and  that 
the  cut  was  irreproachable. 

All  the  accent  lay  about  the  eyes  and  the  fine  mold- 
ings of  the  forehead.  The  eyes  were  deep,  hidden 
under  the  brows,  Bismarckian  in  their  set,  and  not  so 
calm,  after  all,  she  thought.  She  found  herself  study- 
ing the  lines  of  his  mouth,  strong  and  yet  susceptible. 
And  as  she  studied  the  characteristic  mockery  of  his 
smile,  that  smile  which  gave  him  the  appearance  of 
one  who  projects  above  the  crowd  and  sees  beyond 
the  serried  heads,  it  did  not  seem  so  much  the  man 
himself  as  an  attitude  carefully  assumed  against  the 
world.  Was  there  a  drama  back  of  it  all?  At  any 
rate,  her  curiosity  awaking  her  zest,  she  began  to 
wonder  what  he  would  be  like  in  anger  —  that  is,  if 
anything  could  move  him  to  anger,  or  to  anything 
else!  This  last  provocative  thought  aroused  the 
danger-defying  little  devil  within  her.  The  languor 
vanished;  she  felt  swiftly,  aggressively  alert. 

"  And  this  is  where  we  say  our  prayers,"  he  said, 
pointing  to  the  white  bed. 

"  Every  night !  "  she  answered  promptly. 

"  Really?  "  he  said,  raising  his  eyebrows. 


THE  SALAMANDER  129 

"  Every  night,"  she  repeated,  "  I  throw  myself  on 
my  knees  and  cry,  all  in  a  breath : 

"  '  O  Lord !  give  me  everything  I  want ! '  Then  I 
dive  into  bed,  and  pull  the  covers  over  my  head ! " 

"  H'm !  "  he  said,  his  chin  in  his  hand,  looking  down 
at  her  as  she  rocked  in  laughter  on  the  couch.  "  After 
all,  that's  what  a  prayer  is,  isn't  it?" 

"I  think  so.     Oh!" 

Suddenly  on  the  floor,  tipping  from  the  edge  of 
the  couch,  her  pumps  fell  with  a  crash.  She  had 
slipped  them  off  surreptitiously,  concealing  the  opera- 
tion with  her  skirts.  She  sprang  on  the  rug  in  her 
green  stocking  feet,  snatching  up  the  indiscreet  pumps, 
and  retreating  to  the  closet,  but  without  confusion. 

"  What  are  you  doing  now?  "  she  said,  bobbing  out 
suddenly. 

He  was  standing  by  the  chrysanthemums,  reaching 
up. 

"  I  was  wondering  if  they  were  real." 

"  Imitation  ?  " 

"  You  don't  know  that  trick,"  he  said  maliciously. 
"A  great  invention  of  one  girl  I  knew.  You  ought 
to  know  it!  She  had  three  vases,  chrysanthemums, 
roses,  violets,  all  imitation.  She  said  they  were  the 
only  flowers  she  cared  for;  so,  when  orders  came  in, 
all  the  florist  did  was  to  telephone  the  amount  he 
would  credit  to  her  account !  " 

"  Was  the  florist  Pouffe  ? "  asked  Dore,  stopping 
short  and  laughing. 

"  One  of  them.     But  the  real  touch  was  when  the 


130  THE  SALAMANDER 

admirer  called.  She  would  place  the  vase  of  roses, 
say,  on  the  mantel, —  out  of  reach,  naturally, —  blow 
a  special  perfume  in  the  room,  and  say: 

" '  My !  how  wonderfully  fragrant  those  roses 
are!'" 

Dore  felt  divined;  she  laughed,  conscious  of  a  tell- 
tale color. 

"  Really,  Your  Honor,  you  know  entirely  too 
much!" 

"  I  adore  the  little  wretches  —  and  their  games !  " 
he  said  frankly.  "  I'm  always  on  their  side !  " 

"  You  don't  adore  anything !     You  couldn't !  " 

She  had  stopped  before  him,  looking  up  at  him  with 
her  blue  eyes,  which  were  no  longer  cloudy  but 
sparkling  with  provocation. 

"  You  read  character,  too,"  he  answered,  smiling 
impersonally.  "  It's  true  —  it's  safer  and  more  amus- 
ing !  Let  me  behind  the  scenes.  I  like  it  —  that's  all 
I  ask!" 

"All?" 

"  Quite  all !  "  he  said  dryly.  Then :  "  What  are 
you  going  to  do  with  Sassoon  and  Harrigan  Blood  ?  " 

He  asked  the  question  without  preparation,  to  throw 
her  off  her  guard,  but  she  avoided  it  by  asking  an- 
other. 

"  Are  you  really  just  looking  on?"  she  said,  draw- 
ing her  eyebrows  together.  "Only  curious?" 

"  It's  as  I  told  you,"  he  said.  "  You  see  how  I  am 
here.  Can't  you  tell  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  can't  tell ;  I  can't  tell  anything  about  you !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  131 

"  You  were  not  very  nice  to  me  at  the  luncheon ! " 
he  said  irrelevantly. 

"I  know  it!" 

"  You  would  hardly  speak  to  me!  " 

"  No." 

"Why?" 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  ?  Because  —  because  you  are  too 
strong  for  me !  "  she  said  solemnly,  her  eyes  growing 
curiously  round  and  large. 

He  laughed. 

"  Now,  Miss  Mischief,  that's  too  evident !  " 

"  It's  true !  I  felt  it  from  the  start,"  she  said 
simply.  "  Sit  down." 

He  credited  her  with  being  deeper  than  he  had  be- 
lieved, whereas  she  had  only  obeyed  an  impulse. 

"Is  Blainey  a  possibility  too?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

"  What !  he  has  guessed  even  Blainey?  "  she  thought, 
startled ;  but,  as  she  began  an  evasive  answer,  satisfied, 
he  turned  to  a  trunk,  closed  it  and  installed  himself, 
folding  his  arms. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  am  going  to  do  with  Sassoon 
and  Blood,"  she  said  suddenly.  She  had  camped  on 
another  trunk,  swinging  one  little  foot  incased  within 
a  red  slipper,  ten  feet  of  the  faded  rug  between  them. 
"  I  am  going  to  make  —  oh,  a  lot  of  trouble !  " 

"  You've  started  it  already !  " 

"Tell  me  —  was  there  really  a  terrible  row?"  she 
asked,  clapping  her  hands  eagerly.  "  All  over  little 
me?" 

"  H'm,  yes  —  rather !  We  had  some  difficulty  in 
stopping  it !  "  He  looked  at  her,  amused,  with  the 


I32  THE  SALAMANDER 

gaze  of  one  who  appreciates  the  irony  of  values.  "  Do 
you  know,  you  pretty  little  atom,  that  you  are  set- 
ting in  motion  forces  that  may  shake  millions  ?  " 

"Oh,  how  lovely!     Tell  me!" 

"  Perhaps  I'd  better  not !  "  he  said  grimly.  "  And 
suppose  I  told  you  that  if  you  made  Sassoon  and  Blood 
enemies  over  your  charming  little  person,  that  Blood 
is  capable  of  turning  all  the  force  of  his  newspapers 
against  the  Sassoon  interests,  making  ugly  revela- 
tions and  bringing  on  a  mild  panic,  would  you  per- 
sist?" 

"  Certainly  I  should !  "  she  exclaimed  enthusias- 
tically. 

"  So  is  history  made ! "  he  thought  to  himself. 
"  Now,  answer  me  honestly." 

''Well?" 

"  Don't  you  ever  feel  any  temptation  - 

"  With  Sassoon  —  money  ?  " 

He  put  out  his  arm  in  a  gesture  that  swept  the 
room. 

"  You  are  satisfied  with  this  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,  that's  just  what  he  asked  —  the 
very  words !  " 

"  Yes ;  Sassoon  would  be  pretty  sure  to  ask  that. 
And  you  are  never  tempted  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  knew  us ! "  she  said  proudly. 
"  You  don't  —  no,  you  don't  understand  at  all !  —  or 
you  wouldn't  have  asked  that  question !  "  But,  not 
yet  ready  to  talk,  wishing  to  put  a  score  of  questions 
to  him,  she  changed  abruptly :  "So,  Your  Honor, 
you  are  just  curious  about  me?" 


THE  SALAMANDER  133 

"  I  am  —  very  curious !  "  he  said,  looking  at  her 
with  a  touch  of  his  magisterial  manner.  "  It's  a  queer 
game  you  are  playing!" 

"It's  such  fun!" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  unbending;  "it  is  fun;  but  what's 
going  to  come  of  it  ?  " 

She  flung  out  her  arms. 

"  Quien  sdbe!" 

"  I  wonder  what  is  the  answer,"  he  said,  with  a 
touch  of  solemnity.  "  There  are  so  many  possible 
answers !  " 

"  Oh,  now,  Your  Honor,"  she  said,  with  a  pouting 
look,  a  little  restless,  too,  under  his  fixed  gaze,  "  are 
we  to  be  as  serious  as  all  that?  " 

"  You  girls  are  marvelous,"  he  said  in  a  lighter 
tone,  "  and  you  don't  even  appreciate  the  wonders  you 
accomplish !  " 

"  Go  on !  Cross-examine  me !  It's  a  new  ex- 
perience !  "  she  said,  dropping  her  hands  into  her  lap 
resignedly,  with  mock  submission.  She  felt  as  though 
she  were  playing  a  great  role,  and  that  before  an  audi- 
ence which  would  not  respond  —  which  she  was  de- 
termined should  respond ;  and  yet,  much  as  she  wished 
to  try  his  composure,  she  was  still  groping  for  the 
proper  tactics. 

"  Some  day  will  you  tell  me  something?  " 

"  I'm  afraid,  Your  Honor,  I'd  tell  you  almost  any- 
thing! What  is  it?" 

"  Where  you  come  from  —  your  home  —  why  you 
left—" 

"  The  story  of  my  life  —  right  away!  " 


I34  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I  should  be  interested !  " 

"  My  father  was  shot  the  week  before  I  was  born," 
she  began,  composing  her  features.  "  Mother  was 
arrested  on  suspicion;  I  was  born  in  jail.  .  .  ." 

"  Wait,"  he  said,  with  an  appreciative  nod.  "  I 
don't  want  a  romance !  " 

She  laughed  with  some  confusion. 

"  What  a  pity !     It  was  such  a  good  start." 

"  I  want  the  truth  —  not  one  of  a  dozen  stories 
you've  made  up !  " 

She  eyed  the  tip  of  her  red  slipper,  raising  it 
slightly. 

"  Some  day  I'll  tell  you,"  she  said  finally.  "  Next 
question !  " 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  pick  up  the  name  ?  " 

"  Pick  up  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  '  DoreV     It  wasn't  your  own !  " 

"  Oh,  I  found  it,"  she  said,  turning  away  hastily, 
as  if  afraid  he  might  have  guessed. 

That  was  one  thing  she  could  never  tell  him,  no 
matter  where  future  confidences  might  lead  her.  It 
had,  in  truth,  been  the  suggestion  of  a  certain  Josh 
Nebbins,  press-agent  for  a  local  theater,  who  had 
once  adored  her  fatuously  —  one  of  those  forgotten 
minor  incidents,  lost  in  the  impenetrable  mists  of  an 
outlived  beginning,  an  indiscretion  that  she  wished 
to  forget,  an  impossible  admirer  of  the  days  when 
her  taste  had  not  been  cultivated. 

Luckily,  in  this  moment  of  her  confusion  the  tele- 
phone saved  her. 

"  Shall  I  close  my  ears  ?  "  he  said  instantly. 


THE  SALAMANDER  135 

"  The  idea !  Do  you  think  I  haven't  learned  how 
to  telephone  ?  "  she  said  indignantly.  "  See  how  much 
you  can  gather  from  it !  " 

He  waited,  availing  himself  of  her  permission  to 
listen,  seeking  in  vain  to  patch  sense  in  the  guarded 
replies  that  came  to  him: 

"  I  know  who  it  is.  Go  ahead.  .  .  .  No,  not 
alone  —  but  that  makes  no  difference.  .  .  .  Well,  I 
thought  it  was  time!  Engaged  to-night!  .  .  .  You 
saw  me?  .  .  .  To-day  —  this  afternoon.  .  .  .  'Deed 
I  am!  .  .  .  Why  not?  Lovely!  .  .  .  I'm  sorry! 

.  .  .  When?  .  .  .  Yes!  .  .  .  Oh,     terribly    exciting! 

>» 

He  smiled,  and  admitting  defeat,  continued  his  ex- 
amination of  the  room.  Keen  amateur  of  the  thou- 
sandfold subterranean  currents  of  the  city,  none  in- 
terested him  more  than  the  adventurous  life  of  the 
Salamanders,  with  their  extraordinary  contrasts  of 
wealth  and  poverty.  He  had  known  them  by  the 
dozens,  and  yet  each  was  a  new  problem.  Was  it  pos- 
sible that  she  could  experience  no  temptation  before 
the  opportunities  of  sudden  wealth,  so  boldly  enticing, 
or  did  she  not  realize  what  such  opportunities  could 
mean?  The  interview  interested  him  hugely.  He 
felt  himself  master  of  the  situation,  enjoying  the 
sudden  turns  of  his  intimate  knowledge  that  kept  her 
on  the  defensive  —  keen  enough  to  know  the  ad- 
vantage, with  a  woman,  of  establishing  an  instant  su- 
periority. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  returning  and  looking  at  him 
with  a  teasing  glance. 


136  THE  SALAMANDER: 

"  I'll  admit  that  you've  learned  to  telephone,"  he 
said  appreciatively.  "  What  were  your  planning  — 
how  best  to  elope?" 

"  You  didn't  guess  who  it  was  ?  " 

"Sassoon?" 

"No;  Mr.  Harrigan  Blood." 

"  H'm !     I  should  like  to  have  heard  — " 

The  telephone  interrupted  again,  but  this  time,  re- 
sponding in  an  assumed  voice,  she  cut  it  off  abruptly, 
swinging  back  to  her  perch  on  the  trunk. 

"  Ready !  Go  on  with  the  examination.  Well ! 
what  are  you  thinking  ?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to  see  the  whole  scheme,"  he  said, 
looking  at  her  seriously.  "  Sassoon,  Blood, —  twenty 
others,  I  understand, —  excitement  and  all  that.  How 
long  have  you  been  in  it  ?  " 

"In  what?" 

"In  this  maelstrom  of  New  York?" 

"  Two  years,  almost !  " 

"  Ah,  then  there  must  be  a  man  or  two  behind  the 
rocks!" 

"  How  funnily  you  express  things,"  she  said,  half 
guessing  his  meaning.  "  Just  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

He  took  out  his  cigarette-case,  asked  permission 
with  a  nod,  and  lighting  a  match,  said : 

"  The  man  behind  the  rock  ?  Oh,  that's  obvious ! 
The  man  you  have  only  to  whistle  for,  the  passably 
acceptable  man,  safe,  eligible,  marriageable.  The  man 
who  will  come  forward  at  any  time!  Every  woman 
understands  that.  Perhaps  there  are  several  rocks, 
way  back  in  the  background  ?  No  fibbing,  now !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  137 

She  laughed,  and  thinking  of  Peavey,  blushed  under 
his  quick  gaze. 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  More  than  one  ?  " 

"  Three  or  four ;  but  I  shall  never  whistle !  " 

"  That's  what  makes  the  game  so  exhilarating,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Naturally !  There's  always  a  retreat,"  she  said, 
nodding. 

His  way  of  taking  her,  unexpected  and  positive, 
made  her  forget,  at  times,  the  combat  intended,  in  the 
delight  of  self-analyzation. 

'  Your  eyes  are  extraordinary,"  he  said,  meeting 
her  glance  critically.  "  They're  not  eyes ;  they're  blue 
clouds  entangled  in  your  eyelashes." 

But  even  in  this  there  was  no  personal  enthusiasm. 
He  spoke  enthusiastically,  but  as  an  observer,  cal- 
culating and  foreseeing  developments.  This  compli- 
ment infuriated  Dore.  She  was  not  accustomed  to 
having  men  meet  her  full  glance  with  nothing  but 
criticism. 

"  Thank  you !  "  she  said  icily.  "  You  compliment 
like  an  oculist." 

"  No  oculist  would  understand  the  value  of  such 
eyes,"  he  answered  calmly;  "  De  Joncy  was  right  when 
he  said  there  was  a  million  in  each." 

"  So  you  overheard  ?  " 

"  And  you  —  did  you  understand  ?  " 

"Of  course!" 

She  sprang  to  the  floor,  and  went  to  the  dressing- 
table  on  the  pretext  of  seeking  a  comb. 


138  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I  don't  like  the  way  you  talk  to  me,"  she  said, 
with  her  back  to  him. 

"Why?" 

The  real  reason  she  could  not  avow  —  that  she  re- 
sented this  immovable  impersonality  of  his  attitude. 
This  man,  who  saw  into  her,  who  divined  so  much 
that  she  believed  securely  masked,  and  yet  showed 
no  trace  of  emotion  even  in  his  flattery,  began  to  irri- 
tate her,  as  well  as  to  arouse  all  the  dangerous  vanities. 
But,  as  she  could  not  tell  him  this,  she  assumed  an 
indignant  manner  and  said: 

"  I  believe  you  really  think  I  shall  turn  into  an 
adventuress !  " 

"  No-o,"  he  said  slowly,  as  if  reflecting.  "  You 
may  come  near  it  —  very  near  it ;  but  it  will  be  a  haz- 
ard of  the  imagination.  You  will  end  very  dif- 
ferently!" 

"  Ah,  yes,"  she  said,  suddenly  remembering,  her 
irritation  yielding  to  her  curiosity,  "  you  were  going 
to  prophesy.  Well,  what's  going  to  happen  to  me?" 

"  You  will  be  angry  if  I  tell  you,"  he  said,  with  a 
whimsical  pursing  of  his  lips. 

"No!     What?" 

"  You  will  burn  up  another  year  or  so ;  you  will 
come  very,  very  near  a  good  many  things;  and  then 
you  will  marry,  and  turn  into  a  devoted,  loyal  little 
Hausfrau  —  like  a  million  other  little  Hausfraus  who 
have  thought  they  were  in  this  world  to  do  anything 
else  but  marry!  " 

"No,  no!     Don't  you  dare  say  that!"  she  said, 


THE  SALAMANDER  139 

covering  her  ears  and  stamping  her  foot.  "  That 
never ! " 

"  Mark  my  prophecy,"  he  said,  with  mock  solemnity, 
delighted  at  the  fury  he  had  aroused. 

"  No,  no !  I  won't  be  commonplace !  "  she  cried. 
"  I  am  in  this  world  to  do  something  unusual,  extraor- 
dinary. I'm  not  like  every  other  little  woman. 
Marriage?  Never!  Three  meals  a  day  at  the  same 
hours  —  the  same  man  —  domesticity !  Horrors !  " 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  he  said,  with  his  provoking 
analytic  exactness  of  phrase.  "  My  dear  girl,  this  is 
not  a  real  life  you  are  indulging  in!  Some  day,  per- 
haps, I'll  discuss  it  more  frankly  with  you.  All  this 
is  a  phase  of  mild  hysteria.  Do  you  know  what  you 
are  doing?  You're  not  living;  you're  rejecting  life 
—  yes,  just  that!  —  with  every  man  you  meet.  The 
time  comes  when  you  will  have  to  select.  The  forces 
of  nature  you  are  playing  with  are  bigger  than  you; 
they'll  conquer  you  in  the  end  —  decide  for  you! 
Now  you  play  at  fooling  men  so  much  that  you  fool 
yourself.  When  you  marry,  you  will  surprise  your- 
self!" 

"Stop!"  she  cried  furiously.  "Marriage!  Yes, 
that's  all  you  men  believe  we  are  capable  of !  But  we 
are  different  now.  We  can  be  free  —  we  can  live  our 
own  lives !  And  I  will  not  be  commonplace.  Nothing 
can  make  me  that.  I'd  rather  have  a  tragic  love-affair 
than  that!  Oh,  what's  the  use  of  living,  if  you  have 
to  do  as  every  one  else  does !  " 

She  went  to  the  window  at  the  side,  covering  the 


140  THE  SALAMANDER 

ground  with  the  leap  of  a  panther,  working  herself 
to  a  fury. 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  wall  is  ?  "  she  cried,  strik- 
ing the  curtain,  which  rolled  up  with  the  report  of  a 
pistol  — "  this  ugly,  hateful,  brutal  wall  that  I  hate, 
loathe,  despise  ?  That's  matrimony !  —  ugly,  cold, 
horrid  wall !  " 

She  groped  with  her  hand,  caught  the  tassel,  and 
pulled  the  shade  without  turning  around. 

"  But,  you  see,  you  can't  shut  it  out !  "  he  said 
maliciously,  pointing  to  the  space  that  showed  under 
the  deficient  shade. 

"  There'll  be  no  wall  in  my  life,"  she  said,  with  a 
toss  of  her  head.  She  felt  herself  in  her  most  effec- 
tive theatrical  mood,  and  she  flung  the  reins  to  it,  car- 
ing nothing  where  it  led  her.  Now,  at  all  costs,  she 
w7as  resolved  to  thaw  out  this  glacial  reserve  of  his, 
rouse  him,  teach  him  that  she  could  not  be  held  so 
cheap.  "No  wall  in  my  life!  No  man  to  tell  me: 
Do  this  —  do  that  —  come  here  —  go  there !  Sacri- 
fices? I  shall  never  make  them!  I  tell  you,  all  I 
want  is  to  live  —  to  really  live!  A  short  life,  but  a 
free  one!  You  think  Sassoon  tempts  me;  you  think 
I'd  change  this  room  for  a  palace  or  a  home!  You 
don't  understand  me !  No ;  not  with  all  you  think  you 
understand !  " 

"  Tell  me ! "  he  said,  transforming  himself  into  an 
audience. 

She  changed  suddenly  from  the  passion  of  protest 
to  almost  a  caressing  delight,  ready  to  turn  into  a 
hundred  shapes  to  overwhelm  him.  For  this  perfect 


THE  SALAMANDER  I4t 

discipline  of  his  rushed  her  on.  She  would  find  under 
the  observer  the  spark  of  the  savage!  Perhaps  it 
was  because  she  had  no  fear  that  she  played  so  boldly, 
recognizing  in  him  the  true  gentleman,  and  woman- 
like, presuming  on  this  knowledge.  He  continued 
like  a  statue.  She  was  not  quiet  a  moment,  flitting  to 
and  fro  near  him,  dangerously  near  Kim,  with  a  hun- 
dred coquetries  of  movement,  half-revealing  poses, 
sudden  flashes  of  the  eyes,  confiding  smiles,  all  tantaliz- 
ing, insinuating,  caressing,  tender,  provoking,  filled 
with  the  zest  of  a  naughty  child. 

"  Oh,  Your  Honor !  you're  a  very,  very  wise  man," 
she  said,  shaking  her  finger  at  him,  "but  you  have 
not  seized  the  real  point.  We  want  to  be  free !  Yes, 
we  could  live  where  we  wanted, —  in  the  finest  apart- 
ments,—  but  it  is  such  fun  to  be  in  an  old  boarding- 
house  at  ten  dollars  a  week,  when  you  never  know 
how  you're  going  to  raise  the  rent!  Ah,  the  rent! 
that's  a  terrible  bugbear,  I  can  tell  you!  You  know 
one  trick  for  doing  it.  There  are  a  hundred,  things 
you  would  never  guess ;  for,  with  all  your  prying  eye's, 
you  are  just  like  the  rest  —  less  stupid,  not  more 
clever !  " 

"  Tell  me  some,"  he  said,  his  eyes  half  closed  as  if 
dazzled  by  this  sudden  outpouring  of  youth  and  ex- 
citement. 

"  No  —  no,"  she  said,  shaking  her  hair  so  merrily 
that  a  loosened  curl  came  tumbling  over  her  ear.  She 
changed  the  mood,  coming  near  to  him,  laying  her 
hand  appealingly  on  his  sleeve.  "  Ah,  don't  get  wrong 
ideas.  Don't  judge  us  too  harshly!  We're  not  mer- 


142  THE  SALAMANDER 

cenary  at  the  bottom;  it  isn't  the  money  we  want  — 
that's  very  little!  It's  the  fun  of  playing  the  game!" 

"  Precipices  ?  "  he  suggested,   nodding. 

"  Ah,  yes,  precipices !  "  she  said,  in  a  sudden  ecstasy; 
and  as  she  said  it  her  eyes  drooped,  her  lips  seemed 
to  tremble  apart  as  if  giving  up  her  body  to  a  sigh 
half  ecstasy,  half  languor. 

"  I  can  remember  when  I  adored  precipices,  too," 
he  said,  drawing  his  arm  away  from  her  touch  and 
folding  it  over  the  other,  tightly  across  his  chest. 

"  Remember ! "  she  said  mockingly,  snapping  her 
fingers  under  his  nose.  "  You  do  now.  Who 
doesn't  ?  "  She  put  a  space  between  them  with  a  sud- 
den bound,  as  though  he  had  made  a  move  to  retain 
her.  Then,  with  a  whirl,  she  poised  herself  gleefully 
on  the  arm  of  a  chair.  "  I  adore  precipices !  It's  such 
fun  to  go  dashing  along  their  edges,  leaning  up  against 
the  wind  that  tries  to  throw  you  over,  looking  way, 
way  down,  thousands  of  miles,  and  hear  the  little 
stones  go  tumbling  down,  down  —  and  then  to  crouch 
suddenly,  spring  aside  and  see  a  great,  stupid,  puffy 
man  snatch  at  the  air  and  go  head  over  heels,  ker- 
plunk! You  don't  understand  that  feeling?  "  she  said, 
stopping  short. 

"  I  understand  that !  "  he  said  curtly. 

She  whirled  suddenly  on  her  feet,  extending  her 
arms  against  an  imaginary  gale,  and  bending  over,  her 
finger  on  her  lips,  pretended  to  gaze  into  unfathomable 
depths. 

"  But  you  never  fall  in,"  he  said  wisely. 

Instantly  she  straightened  up. 


THE  SALAMANDER  143 

"Oh,  dear,  no!  for  then,  you  see,  there  would  be 
only  one  precipice,  endlessly,  forever  and  ever!  No 
more  precipices,  no  more  fun,  no  more  Dodo  —  and 
that  would  be  unbearable !  " 

"  And  are  there  many  precipices,  Dodo  ?  "  he  said, 
assuming  the  privilege. 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes  —  many  precipices,"  she  said,  watch- 
ing him  maliciously.  "  There  are  old  precipices,  but 
those  aren't  interesting!  Then,  there  are  new  ones, 
too ;  oh,  yes,  several  very  interesting  new  ones !  " 

"  Blainey,"  he  said ;  but  she  shook  her  head. 

"  I'm  afraid  that's  not  a  precipice,"  she  said  se- 
riously. But  at  once,  back  in  her  roguish  mood,  she 
continued :  "  Sassoon's  a  moderately  exciting  preci- 
pice, only  he  will  look  so  ridiculous  as  he  goes  spin- 
ning down,  all  arms  and  legs !  " 

She  took  a  few  steps  toward  the  door,  and  put  her 
hand  to  her  ear. 

"  And  I  think  there  was  the  beginning  of  another 
precipice  there  to-night;  only  —  oh!"  She  exag- 
gerated the  exclamation  with  a  confidential  nod  to 
him.  "  That  is  a  very  risky  one.  I  shall  have  to  be 
very  careful,  and  always  have  a  long  start !  " 

"Others?" 

"Others?  Of  course  there  are  others!"  she  said 
indignantly.  "  Everywhere  —  naturally  —  but  I'm 
not  going  to  tell  you.  You  know  entirely  too  much 
already.  Only  of  one !  " 

"Aha!" 

"  A  very  curious  one,  but  very  exciting !  A  preci- 
pice that  I  can  see  right  here  in  this  room !  " 


144  THE  SALAMANDER 

"An  old  one?" 

"  Not  at  all !  Quite  new !  "  She  made  a  pretense 
of  simulating  it  on  the  rug,  to  pass  mockingly  under 
his  eyes,  daintily,  with  steps  that  trod  on  air.  "  Do 
you  want  to  know  where  it  is  ?  " 

"Where?" 

"  It  runs  from  the  tip  of  this  mischievous,  naughty 
red  slipper,  right  straight  across  the  carpet,  to  —  let 
me  sect  where  does  it  go?  Over  —  over  —  over 
here!" 

She  came  with  her  head  down,  peeping  up  from 
under  her  eyelashes,  balancing  with  her  hands  on 
an  imaginary  line,  straight  by  him,  laughing  to  her- 
self, and  passed  so  close  that  he  felt  the  flutter  of  her 
dress  and  the  warm  perfume  from  her  hair. 

"  Little  devil !  "  he  said  between  his  teeth,  and  fling- 
ing out  his  hand,  caught  her  retreating  shoulder. 

She  wrenched  herself  free,  sprang  away  and  turned, 
blazing  with  anger,  forgetting  all  that  she  had  done 
wilfully,  maliciously,  to  tantalize  him  —  illogical,  un- 
reasoning, wildly  revolting  at  the  acquiring  touch  of 
this  male  hand  on  her  free  body. 

"  How  dare  you !  "  she  cried,  advancing  on  him, 
gloriously  enraged,  fists  clenched.  "  How  dare  you ! 
You  —  you  contemptible  —  you  —  oh,  you  brute, 
brute!  You  dare  to  touch  me  again  —  you  dare!" 
She  turned  suddenly,  striking  him  on  the  chest  with 
her  little  fists,  crude,  futile,  repeated  blows,  choking 
with  shame,  still  in  the  dramatized  mood.  "  You 
dared  —  you  dared !  And  I  trusted  —  oh !  " 

He  did  not  retreat,  opposing  no  resistance  to  the 


THE  SALAMANDER  145' 

frantic  drumming  of  her  blows,  watching  her  coldly, 
with  something  besides  ice  in  the  intensity  of  his  mock- 
ing glance.  Then,  when  from  lack  of  breath  her 
rage  spent  itself  a  moment,  he  said  calmly,  his  glance 
in  her  glance,  as  a  trainer's  subduing  a  revolted  ani- 
mal, deliberate,  slow,  imperative: 

"  Now,  stop  acting!  " 

She  caught  herself  up,  tried  to  answer  and  found 
only  another  furious  gesture. 

"  I  said,  stop  acting ! "  he  repeated  bruskly,  and 
stepping  to  her,  caught  her  in  his  arms.  She  cried 
out  in  a  muffled  strangled  voice,  turning,  twisting, 
flinging  herself  about  fruitlessly  in  the  iron  of  his 
embrace.  He  held  her  silently  until  she  ceased  to 
struggle ;  and  then  his  eyes  continued  to  hold  her  eyes, 
fixed,  imperious,  compelling  her  gaze.  She  remained 
quiet  —  very  quiet,  looking  at  him  startled,  in  doubt, 
seeing  in  him  something  new,  masterful.  And  as  he 
continued  steadily  looking  into  her  eyes,  penetrating 
beyond,  overcoming  all  resistance,  a  smile  came  to 
her,  a  smile  of  confession,  gathering  from  the  cloudy 
blue  of  her  eyes,  running  down  the  curve  of  her  cheek, 
playing  about  the  thin  upturned  lips.  He  bent  his 
head  deliberately.  She  did  not  turn  aside  her  lips. 
.  .  .  Then  on  this  embrace  came  another,  a  convulsive 
frantic  clinging  of  the  lips,  a  kiss  which  conquered 
them  both,  flinging  a  mist  across  their  eyes,  stopping 
their  ears,  stilling  their  reason.  This  kiss,  which  went 
through  her  like  a  flame,  blinding  out  the  world,  hurl- 
ing into  her  brain  a  new  life  and.  a  new  knowledge, 
caught  him,  too,  in  the  moment  when  he  felt  the 


146  THE  SALAMANDER 

strongest,  the  most  able  to  dare.  Neither  his  eyes 
nor  his  brain  had  foreseen  this  —  nor  the  touch  of  her 
arms  twining  about  his  neck.  He  had  a  moment  of 
vertigo  in  which  he  suddenly  ceased  to  think.  He 
kissed  her  again,  and  she  answered  hungrily,  whisper- 
ing: 

"  I  didn't  know!     Ah,  you've  come  — " 

All  at  once  his  mind  cleared  as  if  a  hand  of  ice  had 
touched  his  forehead.  He  tried  to  put  her  arms  from 
him,  aroused,  suddenly  frightened  at  where  he  had 
been  whirled  by  the  immense  combustibility  of  nature. 
But  still  she  clung  to  him,  her  eyes  closed,  her  lips 
raised,  repeating: 

"  At  last  —  oh,  at  last !  " 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  "  he  said  to  himself,  conscious- 
stricken  at  her  glorified  face.  He  stiffened  against  the 
soft  arms,  that  sought  to  draw  him  back,  saying 
hoarsely : 

"  Dodo  —  listen,  Dodo!" 

But  she  shook  her  head,  pervaded  suddenly  by  an 
incomprehensible  ecstasy  of  weakness,  the  oblivion  of 
absolute  surrender.  She  opened  her  eyes  once,  and 
let  them  close  again  heavily. 

"  Please,"  she  said  in  a  whisper,  "  don't  —  don't 
say  anything.  Don't  talk.  .  .  .  It's  all  too  wonder- 
ful!" " 

Then,  abruptly,  he  tore  her  away  from  him,  grasping 
his  coat,  placing  a  table  between  them. 

"  To-morrow !  "  he  said,  in  a  voice  he  did  not  recog- 
nize, knowing  not  what  to  believe,  afraid  of  what  he 
might  say,  amazed  that  all  his  will  had  gone. 


THE  SALAMANDER  147 

She  gave  a  cry,  extending  her  hands  to  him. 
.    "No!     Oh,  don't  go!" 

"I  must,  Dodo!     I  must!" 

"  How  can  you  ?  "  she  cried.     "  How  cruel !  " 

She  covered  her  face  suddenly,  and  her  whole  body 
began  to  tremble. 

"  Good  night !  "  he  said  hurriedly,  a  prey  to  a  wild 
tugging  that  bade  him  leap  to  her. 

She  did  not  answer,  swaying  in  the  center  of  her 
room,  shaken  from  head  to  foot. 

"Good  night!"  He  took  a  long  breath  and  re- 
peated: "  Good  night,  Dodo!  " 

Still  she  did  not  answer. 

"  To-morrow ! " 

No  longer  trusting  himself,  he  flung  through  the 
door,  out  and  down  the  stairs. 

She  went  herself  across  the  room,  her  knees  sink- 
ing under  her,  groped  for  the  door,  weakly  closed  it 
and  turned  the  key.  And  for  the  first  time  she  was 
afraid ! 

How  was  it  possible  that  she,  who  had  known  so 
much,  who  had  feared  so  little,  should  suddenly,  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  have  been  overwhelmed, 
caught  and  mastered  ?  What  did  it  mean  ?  And  this 
question  brought  with  it  a  fierce  delirious  joy  in  her 
moment  of  panic.  For  she  was  in  fear  —  of  many 
things  known,  and  things  uncomprehended :  fear  of 
where  she  had  passed;  fear  of  where  she  was  going; 
of  him! 

Had  it  been  only  a  game,  or  had  he,  too,  been  caught 
as  she  had  been  caught  ?  Fear  there  was  of  the  flames 


148  THE  SALAMANDER 

that  lay  in  his  touch,  fear  of  that  blank  moment  when 
she  had  known  nothing,  cared  nothing,  with  the  sud- 
den starting  horror  with  which  once  she  had  come  out 
of  a  swoon.  But  most  of  all  she  had  a  fear  of  the  fire 
that  had  broken  out  within  her,  in  that  first  awful,  law- 
less moment,  in  which  the  knowledge  of  life  had  come 
to  her  in  blinding  realization. 

"  Do  I  —  is  it  love?  If  not,  what  is  it?  Why  am 
I  so?" 

But  this  time  she  did  not  dramatize  her  mood.  She 
found  no  answer,  slowly  recovering  mastery  of  her- 
self. She  remained  with  her  back  against  the  door, 
her  arms  extended,  barring  the  return,  bewildered, 
weak,  revolted,  happy,  fearing,  listening. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  a  returning  step  —  a  tapping 
on  the  door,  irresolute,  and  a  voice  calling  to  her. 

It  was  Massingale. 

So!  He  had  not  been  able  to  go!  In  a  flash  she 
was  again  the  free  Salamander,  emerging  out  of  the 
fire  of  conflict,  triumphant  by  the  last  dramatic  hazard. 
And  being  her  own  mistress  again,  she  made  no  mis- 
take. 

She  drew  herself  up,  arms  barring  the  door  in  the 
sign  of  a  cross. 

"  Not  now !  "  she  said  breathlessly. 

He  did  not  answer.  She  heard  his  step  on  the 
stairs,  descending.  When,  at  last,  her  arms  fell,  there 
was  a  gleam  of  exultation  in  her  eyes.  Whatever  this 
might  mean,  wherever  it  might  lead,  she  knew  now, 
by  that  momentary  yielding  weakness  of  his  return, 
that  she  would  be  —  in  the  last  crisis  —  the  stronger ! 


CHAPTER  X 

DORE  went  to  bed  at  once  —  not  to  sleep,  for  she 
felt  in  her  mind  a  cold  clarity  that  seemed  im- 
pervious to  fatigue,  but  in  order  to  avoid  conversation 
with  Snyder.  She  did  not  at  once  return  over  the 
surprising  moments  of  the  night.  From  her  pillow 
the  flushed  clock-face  of  the  Metropolitan  Tower  came 
bulging  into  the  room.  She  watched  it  with  a  con- 
tented numbness  of  the  senses,  striving  to  follow  the 
jerky  advance  of  the  minute-hand,  conscious  only  of 
the  fragrance  and  pleasure  of  the  cool  bed-linen, 
dreamily  awake,  prey  to  a  delicious  mental  languor. 
She  asked  herself  no  questions  .  .  .  she  wished  no 
answers.  The  emotional  self  which  had  so  violently 
awakened  within  her,  overturning  all  her  mental  qui 
vive,  returned,  but  in  a  gentle  warm  dominion.  She 
drew  her  arm  under  the  pillow  .  .  .  and  her  embrace 
was  tightening  about  his  neck  again.  She  felt  herself 
caught,  rudely  imprisoned,  struggling  —  dominated, 
convulsively  yielding.  She  moved  restlessly,  rear- 
ranging the  pillows  —  returning  impatiently  into  the 
illusion,  feeling  herself  always  in  his  arms. 

'  The  great  elemental  forces  of  nature  will  decide 
for  you,"  he  had  said.  .  .  . 

She  remembered  the  words  confusedly.     She  had 
never  quite  believed  in  these  forces  .  .  .  though  often 

149 


150  THE  SALAMANDER 

in  her  lawless  imagination  she  had  sought  to  compre- 
hend them,  never  convinced,  always  puzzled.  She  had 
permitted  half  stolen  embraces,  furtive  clasps  of  the 
hand,  wondering,  always  disillusioned.  She  had  per- 
ceived, it  is  true,  some  inexplicable  emotional  madness 
in  the  men  who  sought  her  .  .  .  and  sometimes 
roughly  it  had  repelled  her  to  great  distances.  This 
abrupt  disorder  which  she  could  call  forth  with  a  tone 
of  her  voice,  a  quick  lingering  glance  or  a  certain  re- 
clining languor,  had  excited  her  curiosity.  There  was 
a  certain  mental  exhilaration  in  it,  the  cruel  teasing 
of  the  feline,  playing  with  its  prey.  It  gave  her  an  ex- 
cited sense  of  power  .  .  .  that  was  all.  The  slight- 
est acquiring  advance  had  roused  in  her  a  fury  of  re- 
sistance. .  .  .  And  now,  at  last,  she  knew !  This  was 
the  force  that  had  made  playthings  of  men  and  women, 
that  sent  them  where  they  did  not  wish  to  go,  that 
could  upset  all  coldly  logical  calculations,  that  gave 
the  frailest  little  women  irresistible  weapons  against 
the  strongest  men  ...  or  made  them  throw  all  op- 
portunities to  the  wind  and  follow  incomprehensible 
husbands. 

She  heard  the  cautious  entering  of  Snyder,  and  in- 
stantly closed  her  eyes,  breathing  deep  —  a  light  word 
would  have  seemed  a  sacrilege.  She  waited,  irritated 
and  nervous,  until  her  room-mate,  undressing  in  the 
pale  reflections,  had  noiselessly  curled  herself  on  the 
couch. 

What  would  she  have  done  if  he  had  remained? 
Now  the  languor  that  had  stolen  treacherously  over  her 
senses  was  gone,  dissipated  by  the  presence  of  another 


THE  SALAMANDER  151 

human  being.  Her  mind  threw  itself  feverishly  on 
the  problem,  encircling  it,  trying  it  from  a  hundred 
points  of  view.  What  did  it  mean  ?  Was  her  liberty, 
her  freedom  of  action  suddenly  jeopardized?  And  the 
thought  of  this  overpowering  new  force  made  her  vio- 
lently react  .  .  .  striving  to  escape  its  verity  .  .  . 
just  as  her  body  had  whipped  around  in  his  arms  when 
they  had  suddenly  closed  about  her.  What  was  it 
frightened  her  ?  .  .  .  the  man,  or  something  awakened 
within  her? 

She  sat  up  in  bed,  her  head  in  her  palms,  throbbingly 
awake.  What  would  have  happened  if  he  had  stayed? 
.  .  .  But  he  had  not  stayed  —  and  she  had  not  allowed 
him  to  return.  She  said  it  to  herself  victoriously  .  .  . 
illogically  evading  an  answer  .  .  .  momentarily  satis- 
fied. And  if  he  came  again?  Would  there  be  a  new 
danger  ? 

She  sank  wearily  on  her  pillow.  No  ...  of  that 
she  was  sure  .  .  .  never  again  would  she  be  so  vul- 
nerable. ...  It  had  been  the  unknown  —  the  thing 
she  had  not  believed  in  —  which  had  taken  her  by  sur- 
prise .  .  .  unprepared. 

Then  he  had  made  the  mistake  of  returning.  Mas- 
singale,  strong  and  unyielding,  had  had  a  fearfully 
attractive  force  over  her  will  and  her  vanity,  but  the 
other  .  .  .  the  Massingale  who  had  returned,  was 
human,  and  therefore  could  be  subjected.  No!  .  .  . 
she  would  never  fear  him  again! 

Did  she  love  him?  .  .  .  She  did  not  know  ...  at 
least  she  insisted  that  it  could  not  be  so  —  not  all  at 
once  —  perhaps,  later.  But  she  knew  this  —  that  she 


152  THE  SALAMANDER 

longed  to  see  him  again,  to  have  the  dragging  night 
end,  to  awaken  to  the  morning  and  to  hear  his  com- 
ing, ...  to  go  hurriedly  with  him  out  of  the  discord- 
ant city,  somewhere,  where  it  was  peaceful  and  soli- 
tary, .  .  .  somewhere  where  they  could  turn  and  look 
in  each  other's  eyes  and  know  what  had  happened. 

At  other  moments  she  said  to  herself  with  profound 
conviction  that  it  must  be  love,  that  that  was  the  way, 
the  only  way,  that  love  could  come,  overpowering  the 
reason,  despite  the  reason,  beating  down  all  reason. 
Then  if  it  were  love?  Would  she  submit,  renounce  all 
her  defiantly  proclaimed  liberty?  Characteristically, 
she  did  not  answer.  Instead,  she  projected  herself 
into  this  submission,  and  her  imagination,  volatile  as 
a  dream,  whisked  her  from  one  fancy  to  another. 
She  imagined  what  it  would  be  like  to  fill  a  feverish 
letter,  each  night  after  he  had  gone,  with  all  the  ten- 
der, passionate,  jealous,  or  yearning  fancies  that  he 
had  left  tumultuously  stirring  in  her  breast  —  a  let- 
ter which  she  herself  would  carry  hastily  out  into  the 
night,  running  to  the  letter-box  at  the  corner,  that  he 
might  wake  to  a  surprise.  And  each  morning  she, 
too,  would  awake  to  his  call,  his  voice  over  the  tele- 
phone. At  other  times,  sentimentally  urged,  she  vis- 
ualized him  as  ill,  sadly  stricken,  herself  at  his  bedside. 

"  So,  after  all,  I  am  going  to  marry  —  like  all  the 
rest!"  she  said,  suddenly  roused.  This  one  word  — 
"  marriage  " —  pierced  through  all  the  fancied  illu- 
sions. Marriage  —  one  man;  nothing  but  one  man 
every  day,  year  in  and  year  out  —  was  it  possible  ? 
Could  she  resign  herself?  No  more  excitement,  no 


THE  SALAMANDER  153 

more  gambling  with  opportunity,  no  more  dramatizing 
herself  to  each  new  situation,  no  more  luring  and  eva- 
sion, no  more  sporting  with  dull  brute  strength  or 
matching  of  wits  —  nothing  but  the  expected,  the  rou- 
tine—  yes,  the  inevitable  commonplace?  Could  she 
give  this  up  —  so  soon  ?  She  rose  fiercely  against  the 
sacrifice.  Never!  She  preferred  her  youth. 

All  at  once  a  sound  broke  across  the  hot  flights  of 
her  conflicting  fancies.  She  sat  up  instantly,  bending 
forward,  listening.  She  had  heard  a  sob,  muffled  but 
unmistakable,  from  the  adjoining  room  —  then  an- 
other. She  slipped  quickly  to  the  floor.  Snyder  too 
had  risen. 

"  Be  quiet,  Snyder.  Let  me  go,"  she  said  to  her  in 
a  whisper,  forcing  her  back. 

She  felt  her  way  to  the  door,  and  opening  it  quietly, 
passed  into  Winona's  room. 

"  Who's  that?."  asked  a  frightened  voice. 

"  Hush !  It's  I  —  Dodo.  I  heard  you,"  she  said, 
groping.  "What's  wrong,  Winona?" 

But  the  figure  in  the  bed,  without  answer,  buried  it- 
self face  down  in  the  covers,  striving  to  choke  back 
the  sobs. 

Dore  put  her  arm  about  her,  endeavoring  to  calm 
her,  wondering  and  a  little  apprehensive. 

"  But  this  is  frightful !  Winona,  you  mustn't !  " 
she  said  helplessly.  "  Winona,  can't  you  tell  me  ? 
Can't  you  speak?  " 

The  girl  grasped  her  hand,  pressing  it  convulsively. 
Dor£  waited,  seized  by  the  mystery  of  the  heavy  night, 
the  stillness  and  the  little  animal  sound  of  sorrow. 


154  THE  SALAMANDER 

Between  Salamanders  real  confidences  are  rare. 
What  did  she  know  of  this  life  which  only  a  wall  di- 
vided from  her?  A  suspicion  flashed  into  her  mind, 
knowing  the  perilous  ways  that  sometimes  had  to  be 
run.  All  at  once  she  remembered. 

"Winona!"  she  cried  joyfully.  "What  a  fool  I 
am !  I've  good  news !  It's  all  settled  —  Blainey  to- 
morrow !  "  And  as  the  girl,  buried  in  her  pillow,  con- 
tinued to  struggle  against  the  sobs,  she  shook  her  by 
the  shoulder,  repeating :  "  Blainey  wants  to  see  you ; 
he's  giving  you  a  chance.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Chance !  Ah,  I've  had  a  thousand  chances ! 
What's  the  use !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  twisting  in  the 
bed.  "  It's  always  the  same !  Don't  I  know  it  — 
know  it !  " 

"  But  you  won't  throw  away  this  one  ?  " 

"Chance!  Yes,  that's  all  it  is  —  chance!"  she 
cried  uncontrollably.  "  If  I  wasn't  such  a  fool ! 
What's  the  use  of  trying,  anyhow?  It  don't  make  any 
difference.  Nothing  ever  does!  Ah,  I'll  give  up. 
I'll  go  back!"  She  continued,  repeating  herself  end- 
lessly, beating  the  pillow  with  her  fist;  and  as  she 
abandoned  herself  to  despair,  old  errors  of  speech,  for- 
gotten accents,  mingled  in  her  cries.  "  It  ain't  right ! 
No,  it  ain't  right  —  nothing  ever  comes  of  nothing ! 
Nothing  works  out  —  nothing !  Ah,  no !  I'll  go  back 
—  I'll  go  back  —  I'll  go  back  to  it!  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?     Back  to  what?  " 

Winona  caught  her  throat,  silenced  suddenly. 

"Can't  you  tell  me?" 

"  I'm  all  right  now,"  said  Winona,  shaking  her  head. 


THE  SALAMANDER  155 

She  disengaged  herself  bruskly,  sitting  up,  twisting 
her  fingers  in  the  physical  effort  at  control.  She 
turned,  clutching  Dore. 

"  Did  Blainey  —  he  —  what  did  he  say?  " 

Dore,  inventing  details,  building  up  a  favorable  in- 
cident, exaggerated  the  importance,  recounted  the  in- 
terview. 

"  I  told  him  Zeller  was  after  you.  You  know  how 
he  hates  Zeller!  He's  crazy  to  steal  you!  You'll 
see!  Everything  will  work  like  a  charm  —  and  the 
part  just  for  you! " 

She  continued  optimistically  pouring  out  encourage- 
ment. Winona  allowed  herself  to  be  convinced,  grasp- 
ing at  straws.  They  remained  talking  deeply  of  dif- 
ficulties and  discouragements,  always  avoiding  the 
questions  that  lay  below.  Once  Dore  had  said  tenta- 
tively : 

"  Winona,  wouldn't  it  help  you  just  to  talk  out 
everything  —  tell  me  everything?  I'd  understand. 
Do  trust  me !  " 

But  the  girl,  resisting,  answered  hastily : 

"  No !  no !     Not  now !     Some  day,  perhaps." 

Dore  made  no  further  effort.  She  drew  her  arm 
about  her. 

"  Then  let  me  quiet  you,"  she  said  softly. 

Winona,  without  resistance,  allowed  herself  to  go 
into  her  arms.  They  ceased  speaking,  clinging  to  each 
other  there  in  the  dark,  and  a  strange  sensation  came 
to  Dore  at  the  touch  of  the  body  clinging  to  her,  these 
unseen  arms  so  tenaciously  taut:  it  seemed  to  her  al- 
most that  she  heard  another  voice,  mastering  her 


156  THE  SALAMANDER 

physically  and  morally,  making  her  suddenly  flexible 
and  without  defense,  a  voice  saying: 

"  Now,  stop  acting!  " 

"  All  right.  Better  now.  I  can  sleep,"  said  the  girl 
in  her  arms.  "  Thanks." 

Dodo  rose  and  went  gliding  back.  Snyder,  open- 
eyed,  made  no  sound.  She  was  grateful  to  her  for 
this,  divining  the  reason.  Back  in  her  bed,  huddling 
under  the  covers,  she  recalled  Winona  with  a  feeling 
of  horror.  To  lose  one's  courage  like  that  —  how 
terrible!  And  if  she  herself  were  thus  to  be  trans- 
formed, if  all  her  indomitable  audacity  should  sud- 
denly go  — 

"  There's  some  man  back  of  it  all,"  she  said,  think- 
ing of  Winona.  "  There  always  is  a  man." 

Yet  she  had  been  on  the  point  of  rapturously 
hugging  the  first  dream  that  had  come  to  her  in  an 
uncomprehended  moment,  of  submitting  to  a  man  — 
the  very  thought  flung  her  back  into  intuitive  revolt. 

"  But,  if  it  isn't  love,  how  could  he  have  such  power 
over  me?  Could  there  be  such  a  vertigo  without  true 
love?  Could  such  a  thing  be  possible?"  Time  and 
time  again  she  put  these  questions,  finding  different 
answers.  At  times  she  let  herself  go  deliciously, 
stretching  out  her  arms,  conjuring  up  that  first  pene- 
trating embrace.  At  others,  fiercely  aroused,  she  re- 
sisted him  with  every  fiber  of  her  body,  rejecting  sub- 
mission, resolved  to  combat  him,  to  subordinate  him, 
to  retain  always  her  defiant  supremacy,  to  revenge  her 
momentary  defeat  by  some  future  victory. 

Neither  in  the  yielding  nor  in  the  revolt  was  there 


THE  SALAMANDER  157 

any  conviction  —  no  peace  and  no  calm.  What  there 
was,  was  all  disorder,  and  the  insistent  drumming  note 
of  his  voice,  which  drew  her  to  him,  had  in  it  the  con- 
fusion of  a  fever. 

Though  she  had  fallen  asleep  late,  she  awoke  early, 
with  a  start.  It  was  half  past  eight  by  the  clock.  She 
rose  abruptly  on  her  elbow  at  a  sound  that  had  startled 
her  from  her  slumber  —  the  slippery  rustle  of  letters 
gliding  under  the  crack  of  the  door.  There  were  two, 
white  and  mysterious  against  the  faded  blue  of  the 
carpet.  She  was  about  to  spring  to  them  when  she 
perceived  Snyder  watching  her.  She  contained  her- 
self with  a  violent  effort,  waiting,  with  eyes  that  were 
averted  not  to  betray  their  eagerness,  until  they  were 
brought  to  her.  She  was  certain  that  he  had  written, 
and  something  within  her  began  to  tremble  and  grow 
cold  with  the  suspense  of  awaiting  his  first  letter.  At 
her  first  glance  she  fell  from  the  clouds.  One  was  in 
Mr.  Peavey's  disciplined  hand,  the  other  in  Joe  Gil- 
day's  boyish  scrawl,  each  announcing  expected  gifts. 
She  had  a  sudden  weak  desire  for  tears. 

"  Gee !  eggs  and  cream !  Who  is  the  fairy  god- 
mother ?  "  said  Snyder.  "  Say,  you  must  have  a  wish- 
ing-cap  !  " 

"  It's  Mr.  Peavey,  bless  his  heart! "  said  Dore.  At 
that  moment,  in  her  first  exaggerated  pang  of  disap- 
pointment, she  had  an  affectionate  inclination  to  the 
elderly  bachelor.  He  would  not  have  treated  her  so, 
had  the  roles  been  shifted. 

"Going  to  be  a  habit?" 

"  Hope  so." 


158  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I'm  strong  for  that  boy;  I  like  his  style!  " 
Dore  smiled;  she  comprehended  the  thought.  She 
cast  a  hasty  glance  at  Gilday's  disordered  pages.  It 
was,  as  she  had  surmised,  the  humble  tender  of  bou- 
quets to  come.  She  dissembled  her  disappointment  as 
best  she  could,  seeking  excuses.  He  might  have 
posted  his  letter  after  midnight,  from  his  club.  It 
would  come  in  the  late  morning  mail.  Or  perhaps  he 
had  preferred  to  telephone.  It  must  be  that!  Of 
course,  that  was  the  explanation.  He  wished  to  hear 
her  voice,  as  she  longed  for  his,  and  then  they  would 
take  rendezvous  at  once.  Yes,  he  would  telephone  — 
now  —  at  any  moment.  She  glanced  again  at  the 
clock.  Ten  long  minutes  had  elapsed.  The  excuse 
so  convinced  her  that  she  felt  a  sudden  access  of  un- 
reasoning happiness,  as  if  already,  by  some  sense,  she 
had  divined  his  coming. 

She  had  promised  over  the  telephone  the  night  be- 
fore to  pay  a  morning  visit  to  Harrigan  Blood  in  the 
editorial  rooms  of  the  Free  Press,  and  then  there  was 
the  appointment  for  luncheon  with  Sassoon.  These 
acceptances  did  not  disturb  her  in  the  least.  When 
anything  was  offered,  her  invariable  tactics  were  to  ac- 
cept—  provisionally.  For  her  tactics  were  simple, 
but  formed  on  the  basic  strategy  of  the  Salamanders : 
acceptance  that  raises  hopes,  then  an  excuse  that  brings 
tantalizing  disorder,  but  whets  the  appetite.  To-day 
she  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  keeping  either 
appointment.  She  was  only  glad  that  she  had  con- 
tracted them.  It  was  a  little  bit  of  treachery  which 
she  would  offer  up  to  Massingale. 


THE  SALAMANDER  159 

She  chose  her  simplest  costume  —  blue,  the  invaria- 
ble Russian  blouse,  white  collar  open  at  the  neck,  and 
a  bit  of  red  in  the  slim  belt.  She  wished  to  come  to 
him  girlish,  without  artifice.  She  felt  so  gaily  elated 
that  she  turned  tenderly  toward  the  happiness  of  oth- 
ers. Winona  would  sleep  until  ten  at  least.  She 
wheeled  suddenly,  and  putting  her  arm  around  Sny- 
der,  embraced  her.  In  the  confusion,  a  locket  became 
entangled  in  her  lace. 

"  What's  that?  You've  never  shown  me,"  she  said, 
catching  the  chain. 

Snyder  silently  touched  the  spring.  Inside  was  the 
face  of  a  child  of  four  or  five. 

"Yours?" 

"  Yes." 

"  How  pretty !     What's  her  name  ?  " 

"  Betty." 

They  stood  close  together,  looking  at  the  uncom- 
prehending childish  gaze. 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  With  my  mother." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  take  her  —  ever?" 

"Never!" 

"  Why  not?  "  She  dropped  the  locket,  glancing  at 
this  half  woman,  half  girl,  who  continually  perplexed 
her.  "  She  is  so  sweet  —  how  can  you  do  without 
her?" 

"  Want  her  to  have  a  home,"  said  Snyder  abruptly. 
She  turned,  as  if  the  conversation  were  distasteful. 
"  Can't  be  dragging  her  all  over  the  continent,  can 
I?" 


160  THE  SALAMANDER 

A  great  pity  came  to  Dore,  that  any  one  should  be 
unhappy  in  such  a  bright  world.  A  fantastic  thought 
followed.  She  knew  only  that  Snyder  was  divorced 
—  a  child,  a  broken  home.  Yet  persons  often  di- 
vorced for  the  absurdest  reasons;  perhaps  it  had  only 
been  a  misunderstanding.  If  she  could  reconcile  them, 
bring  them  together  again !  She  approached  the  sub- 
ject timidly. 

"  Do  me  a  favor?  " 

"What?" 

"  Let  me  see  Betty ;  bring  her  here !  " 

Snyder's  agitation  was  such  that  she  came  near 
pushing  over  the  coffee-pot. 

"  You  really  —  you  want  me  to  — " 

"Yes.     Why  not?     I  adore  children!" 

She  continued  to  watch  her,  surprised  at  the  emo- 
tion she  had  aroused. 

"  Yes,  she  is  unhappy  —  frightfully  unhappy !  "  she 
thought,  and  taking  courage,  she  added :  "  Snyder, 
tell  me  something?  " 

Snyder  shook  her  head,  but,  despite  the  objection, 
Dore  continued: 

"  You  have  never  told  me  of  him  —  your  husband. 
Are  you  sure  it  couldn't  be  patched  up?  Are  you  sure 
you  don't  care  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it  —  it's  ended !  "  said 
Snyder,  so  abruptly  that  Dore  drew  back. 

"  I  only  asked  — " 

"  Don't  want  help  —  don't  want  to  talk !  "  Snyder 
broke  in,  in  the  same  embittered  tone. 

"  Not  to  me?  "  said  Dore  gently. 


THE  SALAMANDER  161 

Snyder  drew  a  long  breath,  and  turned  to  her 
swiftly,  with  an  appealing  look,  in  which,  however, 
there  was  no  weakness. 

Then  she  laid  her  finger  across  her  lips. 

"  Here  —  breakfast  is  ready ;  sit  down !  " 

"  Snyder,  I  don't  understand  you ;  you  hurt  me ! " 
said  Dore,  opening  her  eyes. 

The  woman  stood  a  moment,  locking  and  unlocking 
her  hands,  swinging  from  foot  to  foot. 

"  Can't  help  it.  You  can't  make  me  over.  I've 
got  my  rut !  "  She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I'm 
damned  unsociable  —  perhaps  I'd  better  dig  out." 

"  Snyder !  "  exclaimed  Dore,  bounding  to  her  side. 
She  took  her  in  her  arms,  crying :  "  Why,  it  was  only 
to  help  you !  " 

"  Well,  you  can't ! "  said  the  other,  with  a  forcible 
shake  of  her  head,  her  body  stiff  against  the  embrace. 
And  there  the  conversation  ended. 

It  was  after  nine,  and  still  no  sound  at  the  telephone. 
Dore  began  to  feel  an  uneasy  impatience.  At  any 
minute,  now,  certainly  he  must  summon  her.  Snyder 
made  an  excuse  and  went  out.  But  she  ceased  to  think 
of  her.  Her  thoughts  were  no  longer  keen  to  an- 
other's suffering,  but  sensitive  to  her  own. 

She  grew  tired  of  pacing  restlessly,  and  flung  her- 
self down  on  the  couch,  her  head  turned  toward  the 
clock,  watching  it  wearily.  Why  didn't  he  telephone 
—  or,  at  least,  come?  This  sensation  of  suspense  and 
waiting,  which  she  had  so  often  dealt  out  to  others, 
was  new  to  her.  It  disarranged  her  whole  self, 
aroused  fierce  resentful  thoughts  in  her.  He  wished 


162  THE  SALAMANDER 

to  tantalize  her,  to  draw  her  on,  as  he  had  the  night 
before  —  to  be  cruel,  to  make  her  suffer!  Well,  she 
too  could  be  cruel.  She  would  do  something  to  hurt 
him,  too. 

"  Very  well !  Now  I  will  go  to  see  Harrigan 
Blood,"  she  said  all  at  once,  choking  with  something 
that  was  not  entirely  anger. 

And  hastily  slipping  into  her  coat,  she  went  hur- 
riedly to  Ida  Summers'  room,  awoke  her  and  took  her 
with  her. 


CHAPTER  XI 

MR.  PEAVEY'S  automobile  was  waiting.  Dore 
had  telephoned  for  it  while  Ida  Summers, 
protesting,  had  made  a  quick  toilet.  She  had  at  first 
thought  of  availing  herself  for  the  day  of  the  car  so 
insistently  pressed  upon  her ;  but  she  was  not  yet  quite 
sure  of  Brennon,  the  chauffeur.  If  by  any  chance  she 
should  decide  to  keep  her  appointment  with  Sassoon, 
it  would  not  be  wise  to  accept  such  escort.  So  she 
supplemented  the  day's  preparations  by  a  message  to 
Stacey,  who  was  given  a  later  rendezvous. 

"  Down-town !  The  Free  Press  building.  Hope  I 
didn't  get  you  up  too  early,  Brennon  ?  " 

He  grinned  at  her  ideas  of  morning  values. 

"  He  looks  as  if  he  were  a  good  sort,"  Dore  thought, 
meditating  on  the  possibilities  long  after  she  and  Ida 
had  tucked  themselves  in. 

"  I  say,  Do,  what's  the  game?  Give  us  the  cue!  " 
said  Ida  Summers,  making  heroic  efforts  to  get  her 
eyes  open. 

"  Your  cue  is  to  be  real  sisterly,"  said  Dore.  "  Stick 
close,  unless  I  give  you  the  wink." 

"Oh,  I'll  cling!  Arm  in  arm,  eh?"  said  Ida,  be- 
ginning to  laugh.  "  Conversation  high-toned.  I  say, 
Do,  I'm  quite  excited.  Harrigan  Blood!  You  do 
move  in  the  swellest  circles !  " 

163 


1 64  THE  SALAMANDER 

Dore  allowed  her  to  chat  away  without  paying  at- 
tention, a  fact  that  did  not  disturb  her  companion  in 
the  least. 

"  Well,  he'll  be  furious !  "  she  was  thinking,  de- 
lighted at  paying  Massingale  back  in  coin.  Neverthe- 
less, she  had  mitigated  the  retaliation  by  taking  a  com- 
panion. Then,  too,  the  effect  on  Harrigan  Blood 
would  not  be  at  all  bad  —  Blood,  who  expected  a  tete- 
a-tete,  and  who  could  thus  be  taught  the  value  of  such 
favors. 

But  now  that  she  was  finally  embarked  on  her  im- 
pulse, she  began  to  consider  more  calmly,  even  with  a 
willingness  to  see  Massingale's  side.  All  at  once  the 
perfectly  obvious  explanation  occurred  to  her.  How 
could  he  be  expected  to  telephone,  when  she  had  not 
given  him  the  number?  Why  had  she  never  thought 
of  this  before?  Probably  he  had  been  frantically 
seeking  it !  Of  course  he  could  not  telephone  —  and 
of  course  he  could  not  come  personally;  he  would  have 
to  be  in  court  all  the  morning.  Perhaps  at  this  very 
moment  a  letter  was  waiting  for  her,  by  the  post,  or 
by  a  messenger!  She  must  indeed  be  in  love,  to  be 
such  a  fool! 

"  Thank  heaven,"  she  thought,  "  I  had  the  sense  to 
bring  Ida !  I'll  confess  to  him  —  or,  no !  He  mustn't 
know  what  it  has  meant !  " 

The  sudden  joyful  release,  the  calm  of  content  that 
came  to  her  from  this  explanation,  surprised  her. 
For  a  moment  she  felt  like  renouncing  the  visit ;  but  a 
new  turn  strengthened  her  resolve.  She  could  hardly 
believe  in  what  had  happened.  Perhaps  it  was  only 


THE  SALAMANDER  165 

another  case  of  self-deception.  She  would  try  to  re- 
volt, to  be  interested  in  another  man,  to  see  if  the  old 
game  could  still  attract. 

"  Lordy !  I'd  forgotten  there  was  so  much  New 
York ! "  said  Ida  Summers,  who  lived,  like  her  thou- 
sand sisters,  between  the  Flatiron  and  the  park. 

They  entered  lower  Broadway,  random  flowers  on 
the  foul  truck-strewn  flood,  advancing  by  inches,  sur- 
rounded by  polyglot  sounds,  traversing  revolted  Eu- 
rope in  a  block,  closing  their  ears  against  the  shriek- 
ing cries  of  imprisoned  industries,  the  sordid  struggle 
in  the  streets,  the  conflict  in  the  air,  where  stone  flights 
strove  for  supremacy. 

All  at  once  she  remembered  —  this  roaring  en- 
trance. She  remembered  the  evening,  not  two  years 
before,  when  she  herded  from  the  ferry,  satchel  in 
hand,  oppressed  by  the  jargon  of  a  thousand  tongues, 
she  had  arrived,  hustled  and  jostled,  barely  making 
head  against  the  outflowing  tide  of  humanity  which 
flushed  the  street  in  its  roaring  homeward  scramble. 

That  first  breathless  impression  of  New  York! 
How  she  had  feared  it,  that  first  dusky  evening,  when, 
shrinking  in  a  doorway  before  the  onrush  of  driven 
multitudes,  she  had  felt  the  very  air  dragged  from  her 
nostrils,  obliterating  her  individuality,  routing  her 
courage,  stunning  her  senses.  She  had  stood  a  long 
time,  clinging  to  her  meager  sheltering,  disheartened 
at  the  fury  at  her  feet,  awed  by  the  flaming  ladders 
to  the  impending  stars  —  no  inanimate  stones,  but  liv- 
ing rocks,  endlessly  climbing,  which  must  end  by  top- 
pling over  on  her  in  an  obliterating  crash.  New 


1 66  THE  SALAMANDER 

York!  How  different  from  what  she  had  imagined 
in  the  tugging,  liberty-seeking  aspirations  of  her 
soul! 

She  had  never  lacked  courage  before,  in  all  her  ad- 
venturous progress  toward  the  Mecca  of  her  dreams; 
but  that  night  she  had  been  defeated,  overwhelmed  be- 
fore the  issue,  even.  She  had  come,  sublimely  con- 
fident in  a  fanciful  project  she  had  conceived,  a  series 
of  impressions  —  A  Western  Girl  in  New  York  — 
a  western  girl  arriving  undaunted,  satchel  in  hand, 
ten  dollars  in  her  purse,  to  seek  fortune  in  the 
great  city  of  Mammon  —  surely  a  daring  story  to 
fill  a  woman's  column.  And  she  had  gone  to  the 
same  Free  Press,  standing  in  the  outer  office,  talk- 
ing to  a  tired  sub-editor,  vainly  striving  to  inter- 
est him,  to  revive  in  herself  a  necessary  spark  of 
enthusiasm  and  audacity  which  had  expired  in  that 
first  brutal  confrontation  of  the  world  in  terms  of 
thousands.  Yes,  she  had  lost  even  before  she  had 
opened  her  plea,  convinced  of  the  futility  of  making  an 
impression  on  those  frantic  halls,  where  her  voice  wasv 
pitched  not  alone  against  the  tired  indifference  of  a 
routine  mind,  but  against  the  invading  storm  of  outer 
sounds,  the  clang  of  brazen  bells,  the  honk  of  automo- 
biles, the  shaking  rush  of  invisible  iron  forces  tearing 
through  the  air,  the  grinding  roll  of  traffic  over  the 
complaining  cobblestones,  the  mammoth  roar  of  the 
populace  endlessly  washing  reverberating  shores. 

She   had  talked  and  talked,    without   interruption, 
clenching  her  fist,  growing  weaker  and  weaker,  stum- 


THE  SALAMANDER  167 

bling  in  her  phrases,  until  at  last,  convinced,  without 
waiting  for  an  objection,  she  had  stopped  short,  say- 
ing :  "  It's  no  use,  is  it  ?  " 

Then  he  had  gone  to  a  file  of  papers,  and  returning, 
spread  before  her  a  gaily  colored  page,  placing  his  fin- 
ger on  another  face  in  silhouette,  gay,  jaunty.  An- 
other had  had  the  same  idea!  How  many  others? 
She  was  no  longer  an  individual  —  only  one  of  a  thou- 
sand who  came,  with  the  same  ideas,  to  face  the  same 
struggle. 

That  first  leaden  closing  of  the  doors  of  hope,  as  if 
no  other  doors  remained!  And  now  she  was  to  enter 
that  same  Free  Press,  no  longer  daunted,  clinging  to  a 
satchel,  but  rolling  luxuriously,  triumphant :  no  longer 
a  suppliant,  but  amused,  at  the  insistent  invitation  of 
the  chief,  the  genius  of  the  machine,  whom  once  she 
had  clamored  so  fruitlessly  to  see.  Then  and  now. 
.  .  .  Harrigan  Blood  —  society  itself,  on  which  she 
was  to  take  a  delicious  revenge.  She  forgot  Massin- 
gale,  remembering  only  a  hopeless  little  figure,  ready 
for  tears,  standing,  a  tiny  black  dot  against  the  elec- 
tric windows  of  the  press,  gazing  into  the  wilderness 
of  the  strident  crowded  unknown. 

A  quick  descent,  a  sudden  volcanic  propulsion  up- 
ward, and  they  were  transferred  a  hundred  feet  above 
strife,  into  a  noisy  anteroom,  gazing  down  at  the  gray- 
and-white  tapestry  of  the  spread  city. 
"  Hello!     What  are  you  doing  here?  " 
They  turned.     Estelle  Monks,  of  the  second  floor 


1 68  THE  SALAMANDER 

front  at  Miss  Pirn's,  owner  of  the  white  fox  stole  and 
the  circulating  garments,  was  standing  beside  them, 
jauntily  alert. 

"  Goodness'  sakes,  it's  Estelle ! "  exclaimed  Ida. 
"  Well,  what  are  you  doing  —  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  contribute,"  said  Estelle  evasively. 

She  was  in  a  short  tailored  suit,  Eton  collar,  Alpine 
hat  and  feather.  With  her  hands  in  her  side  pockets, 
she  was  very  direct,  at  ease,  mannish,  but  not  disagree- 
ably so  —  rather  attractive  with  her  dark  eyes,  which, 
as  Ida  expressed  it,  had  the  "  real  come-hither "  in 
their  mocking  depths. 

A  boy  came  shuffling  out,  saying  nasally: 

"  Mr.  Blood  will  see  you  naow." 

They  left  Estelle  Monks  indulging  in  a  long  whistle 
of  surprise,  traversed  a  long  chorus  of  clicking  ma- 
chines, and  discovered  a  room  of  comparative  quiet, 
spacious,  with  embattled  desks.  Harrigan  Blood  was 
waiting,  a  smile  on  his  face  as  he  fingered  the  huo 
cards. 

"  Very  nice  of  you  to  bring  Miss  Summers,"  he  said 
jerkily,  making  his  own  introduction.  "  Added  pleas- 
ure, I'm  sure ! " 

Dore,  who  had  expected  some  show  of  irritation, 
wondered  in  an  amused  way  how  he  would  manage 
to  procure. the  tete-a-tete  which  she  had  just  rendered 
impossible.  In  ten  minutes  Blood,  without  seeming 
to  have  considered  the  question,  had  resolved  the  knot 
by  calling  in  Tony  Rex,  one  of  the  younger  cartoon- 
ists, a  boyish  person  who  eyed  them  with  malicious 
curiosity,  and  having  consigned  Ida  to  him  for  a  tour 


THE  SALAMANDER  169 

of  inspection,  had  availed  himself  of  the  first  interval 
to  say: 

"  Come,  you  can  see  all  this  any  time.  You  are  not 
going  to  get  out  of  a  talk  with  me  by  any  such  tricks." 

She  consented,  laughing,  to  be  led  back. 

"  Why  did  you  do  this  ?  "  he  said,  irritated. 

"Do  what?" 

"  Bring  a  governess  ?  " 

"  Because  I'm  a  very  proper  person." 

"It  annoys  me.  I  hate  women  who  annoy  me!" 
he  said  abruptly. 

She  smiled  in  provoking  silence,  while,  with  a  quick 
excusing  gesture,  he  lighted  a  cigar. 

"  You  seem  more  natural  here,"  she  said,  glancing  at 
his  ruffled  hair  and  careless  tie.  "  I'd  like  to  see  you 
at  work." 

He  rose  to  get  a  copy  of  the  editorial  sheet  for  the 
day,  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"  You  inspired  that." 

She  took  the  editorial,  which  was  entitled  "  Waste," 
and  ran  down  its  heavily  leaded  phrases,  smiling  to 
herself  at  these  moralizations  of  the  devil  turned  friar. 
He  saw  her  amusement,  and  took  the  editorial 
abruptly. 

'  You  won't  understand  —  that's  what  I  believe! " 

He  drew  a  chair  opposite  and  flung  into  it;  then, 
with  an  erect  stiffening  of  his  body,  clasped  his  hands 
eagerly  between  his  knees,  releasing  them  in  sudden 
flights,  returning  them  always  to  their  tenacious  grip. 
There  was  something  in  the  combustibility  of  the  ges- 
ture that  was  significant  of  the  whole  man. 


170  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  By  George !  "  he  said  suddenly,  without  relevancy, 
"  why  haven't  I  the  right  to  stretch  out  my  hand  and 
take  you?" 

Dore  burst  out  laughing,  immensely  flattered. 

"  What  a  nuisance  you  are!  "  he  continued  savagely. 
"  What  good  do  you  do  in  the  world  ?  All  you  women 
do  is  to  interfere !  And  to  think  that  this  sentimental 
civilization  —  idiotic  civilization  —  is  going  to  experi- 
ment for  a  few  hundred  years  with  pretending  that 
women  are  made  to  share  the  progress  of  the  world 
with  men ! " 

"  So  you're  not  a  woman's  — " 

"  I'm  absolutely  against  the  whole  feminine  twad- 
dle !  "  he  broke  in.  "  Man's  the  only  thing  that  counts ! 
We're  suffocated  with  feminism  already  —  over-senti- 
mentalized; can't  think  but  in  the  terms  of  an  indi- 
vidual." He  stopped,  and  glaring  at  her,  said,  with 
a  furious  gesture :  "  And  now,  here  you  are,  an  im- 
pudent little  girl  who  doesn't  do  the  world  a  bit  of 
good,  sitting  back  there  and  laughing  contentedly  be- 
cause you've  suddenly  popped  up  to  raise  Cain 
with  me ! " 

The  originality  of  his  attack  delighted  her.  It 
pleased  her  immensely  to  feel  her  attraction  for  such  a 
man,  for  it  seemed  to  her  a  promise  that  with  another 
she  would  not  lack  charm  and  fascination. 

"  What  a  strange  method  of  courting,"  she  said  de- 
murely. "If  that's  the  way  you're  going  on,  I  think 
I  prefer  to  be  shown  the — " 

"  The  machines,  of  course,"  he  cut  in.  "  That's  the 
trouble  with  you.  That's  all  they  ever  understand  — 


THE  SALAMANDER  171 

the  things  they  see.  But,  my  dear  girl,  /  am  the  pa- 
per ;  all  the  rest  is  only  wheels,  chains,  links ;  every  man 
here  is  only  part  of  the  machine.  I  only  am  the  in- 
dispensable force." 

He  had  found  an  idea,  and  was  off  on  its  exposition, 
starting  up,  pacing  and  gesturing. 

''  Yes,  all  the  rest  is  only  a  machine.  I  can  change 
every  bolt  in  twenty-four  hours  and  it  will  go  on  just 
the  same.  I  pay  a  cartoonist  twenty  thousand  dollars 
a  year,  and  he  thinks  he's  indispensable;  but  I  can 
take  another  and  make  him  famous  in  a  month.  I 
give  him  the  ideas !  Yes,  they  are  lieutenants  here  — 
editors  of  Sunday  supplements,  special  writers,  wom- 
en's columns,  sporting  experts.  I  can  change  'em  all, 
take  a  handful  of  boys,  and  whip  them  into  shape  in 
six  weeks !  That's  not  journalism.  What  is  ?  I'll  tell 
you.  Others  have  copied  me;  I  found  it  out  —  emo- 
tions and  ideas!  You  don't  get  it?  Listen!  They're 
two  heads :  the  news  column  and  the  editorial  page." 

He  paused  at  the  table,  and  taking  up  a  paper, 
struck  it  disdainfully. 

"Trash!  I  know  it!  News?  No!  That's  not 
what  the  public  wants  —  ncL  my  public!  It  wants 
fiction,  it  wants  emotions!  You  don't  know  what  the 
multitude  is;  I  do!  A  great  sunken  city,  a  million 
stifling,  starved  existences,  hurried  through,  rail- 
roaded  through  life.  News?  Bah!  They  want  a 
taste  of  dreams !  I  make  their  dreams  live  in  my  pa- 
per. It's  everything  to  them,  melodrama,  society,  ro- 
mance; it's  a  peep-hole  into  the  worlds  they  can't 
touch.  I  show  'em  millionaires  moving  behind  their 


172  THE  SALAMANDER 

house-walls,  rolling  in  wealth,  fighting  one  another, 
battling  for  one  another's  wives,  flinging  a  billion 
against  a  billion,  ruining  thousands  for  a  whim. 
'  Monte  Cristo  '  ?  It's  tame  to  what  I  serve  'em.  '  Mr. 
X  Gives  a  Hundred  Thousand  Dollar  Lunch ' — '  Se- 
cret Drama  of  Oil  Trust's  Home  ' — '  Deserts  Million- 
aire Husband  for  Chauffeur  ' — '  Ten  Millions  in  Five 
Years  ' !  That's  life  —  that's  emotion !  That's  what 
makes  'em  go  on!  Look  here,  did  you  ever  stop  to 
think  what  does  make  the  five  million  slaves  go  on,  day 
in  and  day  out,  driven,  groaning?  Hope!  the  belief 
that  in  some  miraculous  way  life  is  going  to  change." 

He  stopped,  and  with  a  drop  to  cold  analysis,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  the  editorial  sheet,  said : 

"  This  is  what  does  count.  This  is  real  —  ideas ! 
The  other  is  just  tom-tom-beating  to  get  the  crowd 
around  —  yes,  just  that:  the  band  outside  the  circus. 
But  this  is  different ;  this  is  true.  America,  the  future 
—  the  glorious  future  when  I've  stirred  up  their  imag- 
ination and  taught  them  to  think!  There!  Now  do 
you  understand  what  kind  of  man  I  am  ?  " 

She  had  understood  one  thing  clearly,  in  this  stu- 
pendous flurry  of  egotism  —  that,  as  Sassoon  had 
sought  to  tempt  her  with  the  lure  of  his  wealth,  Har- 
rigan  Blood  was  seeking  to  overwhelm  her  with  the 
brilliancy  of  his  mind.  She  did  not  oppose  him,  seek- 
ing flattery,  needing  fresh  proofs  of  her  power,  think- 
ing :  "  If  he  wants  me,  Massingale  —  Massingale, 
who  is  so  clever  and  strong  —  will  want  me  too." 

"  You  lunch  with  me,"  he  said  confidently. 

She  shook  her  head.     "  Previous  engagement." 


THE  SALAMANDER  173 

"Where?" 

"  Tenafly's  at  one." 

"  Sassoon?  "  he  said,  sitting  up  with  a  jerk. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  with  malice  aforethought. 

"  What  —  you're  going  to  be  caught  by  that  whited 
sepulcher  ?  " 

"  And  you,  Mr.  Blood?  "  she  said  softly. 

"I?     I'm  loyal!" 

"  But  not  monogamous." 

"  Sassoon  only  wants  to  be  stung  out  of  a  lethargy. 
Women  —  I  need  them  to  help  me.  I  have  the  right ! 
That's  why  I  want  you !  " 

"  I'm  not  the  kind  you  want,"  she  said,  drawing 
back,  for  his  precipitation  gave  her  the  feeling  of  being 
crowded  into  a  corner. 

"  You  would  if  I  could  make  you  love  me!  " 

"Indeed!     Are  you  considering  —  matrimony?" 

"  Never !  "  he  said  angrily.  "  Marriage  is  a  recip- 
rocal tyranny.  I  don't  want  to  own  a  woman,  or  have 
her  own  me!  What,  you  can  have  a  career,  and  you 
want  to  marry  ?  " 

She  defended  herself,  laughing,  assuring  him  that 
was  not  the  case. 

"  You  have  your  career ;  I  have  mine.  I'll  educate 
you !  Ten  thousand  men  will  give  you  money  —  I'll 
give  you  brains!  My  little  girl,  I  wonder  if  you  know 
what  opportunity  is  dangling  on  your  little  finger-tips. 
Break  your  engagement !  " 

"I  can't!" 

"Interested?" 

"Um!     Very    curious.     Certain    sides    are   amus- 


174  THE  SALAMANDER 

ing!"  Then  she  turned,  assuming  an  air  of  dignity, 
repeating  her  defensive  formula :  "  Mr.  Blood,  I  am 
not  like  other  girls.  I  play  fair.  I  give  one  warning 
—  and  one  only.  Then  take  the  consequences." 

"  What's  your  warning  ?  "  he  said  abruptly,  with  a 
bullish  stare. 

"  You  will  lose  your  time,"  she  said  calmly.  "  You 
think  you  know  me.  You  may,  and  you  may  not.  I 
won't  give  you  the  slightest  hint,  but  I  tell  you  frankly 
now,  and  only  once,  you  will  lose  your  time !  " 

"  But,"  he  said  contemptuously,  "  you  don't  know 
what  a  real  man  is !  There's  nothing  real  in  your  life. 
I'm  going  to  give  you  realities ! " 

"How  charming!"  she  said,  shrugging  her  shoul- 
ders. "  And  in  the  same  breath  you  let  me  know  it 
won't  last.  Thanks;  I  don't  enjoy  being  an  episode!  " 

"  That  depends  on  you." 

"Frank!" 

"  Don't  you  know,"  he  said  suddenly,  coming  toward 
her,  "what  is  true  about  a  man  like  myself?  —  yes, 
about  all  men  ?  They  say  we're  naturally  polygamous. 
Rats !  nothing  of  the  sort !  We  want  to  be  true  to  one 
woman  only.  Look  here.  The  real  tragedy  in  life  is 
that  a  man  can't  find  in  one  woman  all  he  wants, —  all 
the  time!  " 

At  this  moment,  much  to  Dore's  relief,  Ida  Sum- 
mers and  her  companion  returned.  As  they  went  out 
to  the  elevator,  Blood  made  another  opportunity  for  a 
final  word: 

"  I  haven't  said  half  that  I  wanted  to.  When  can 
I  get  a  chance  really  to  talk  with  you  ?  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  175 

A  malicious  suggestion,  prompted  by  some  devil  of 
intrigue  within  her,  suddenly  rose  in  her  imagination. 

"  Come  and  get  me  after  luncheon." 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  were  lunching  with  Sas- 
soon,"  he  said  suspiciously. 

"  I  am.     What  of  it?  —  or  don't  you  dare?  " 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly,  divining  her  reason. 

"  I  warned  you  to  beware  of  me,"  she  said  de- 
murely. "  I  love  scenes  —  dramatic  temperament, 
you  know.  Think  how  furious  Sassoon  will  be! 
Well?" 

"  What  time?  "  he  said,  with  a  snap  of  his  jaws. 

"  Oh,  half  past  two." 

"I'll  come!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

TONY  REX  descended  to  place  them  in  their  au- 
tomobile. He  was  a  short  youth  in  loose  pep- 
per-and-salt clothes,  with  a  pointed  nose  and  a 
quantity  of  tow  hair  tumbling  over  a  freckled  fore- 
head. Dore  hardly  noticed  him.  Not  so  Ida,  who, 
in  true  Salamander  fashion,  had  already  established  a 
permanent  intimacy. 

"  Why  did  you  desert  me?  "  said  Dore,  with  hypo- 
critical severity,  when  they  had  left  their  escort,  hat 
in  hand,  on  the  curb. 

"  My  dear,  I  couldn't  help  it !  "  said  Ida  volubly. 
"  I  was  having  such  a  wonderful  party  with  Mr.  Rex. 
My  dear,  I'm  crazy  about  him!  Did  you  ever  see 
those  funny  little  cartoons  of  his?  Screams!  Just 
think  of  it,  he  comes  from  almost  the  same  place  I  do ! 
We've  made  a  date  for  to-morrow.  Lord!  I  do  like 
some  one  who  talks  English  you  can  understand !  " 

Dore,  impatient  to  be  home,  fed  her  with  rapture- 
inciting  questions  and  retired  into  her  own  specula- 
tions. Chance  had  played  her  a  trick.  She  had  had 
no  intention  of  keeping  her  appointment  with  Sassoon ; 
but  now  the  dramatic  possibilities  of  a  clash  between 
her  host  and  Harrigan  Blood,  which  had  risen  out  of 
a  light  answer,  had  so  whetted  her  curiosity  that  she 
found  herself  in  sudden  perplexity.  Her  encounter 

176 


THE  SALAMANDER  177 

with  Blood  had  awakened  in  her  all  the  mischievous, 
danger-seeking  enthusiasms.  They  had  scarcely  passed 
half  an  hour,  and  yet  he  had  left  her  breathless  at  his 
breakneck  pace,  the  abrupt  charge  of  his  attack,  his 
unconventionality,  his  stripping  away  of  artifices.  He 
had  interested  her  more  than  she  had  foreseen. 

Yesterday  how  her  eyes  would  have  sparkled  with 
delight  at  having  inveigled  such  a  thrashing  fish  into 
her  cunning  nets !  And  even  now  it  was  hard  to  forego 
the  excitement  of  such  a  game.  Her  dramatic  self, 
once  aroused  by  the  tete-a-tete,  was  not  easily  sub- 
dued. After  all,  too  easy  a  compliance  with  Massin- 
gale's  ideas,  too  patient  a  waiting  for  his  summons, 
was  dangerous.  Better  to  teach  him  how  sought  after 
was  the  prize.  Besides,  if  she  kept  him  waiting  until 
the  evening,  she  could  tell  by  the  first  glance  of  his 
eyes  how  much  he  had  suffered,  how  much  he  cared. 
She  did  not  doubt  in  the  least  that,  when  she  reached 
Miss  Pirn's,  there  on  the  mahogany  hall  table  she 
would  find  his  note;  and  blowing  hot  and  cold,  she 
ended  up  by  saying  to  herself  that  if  in  that  letter 
were  things  that  could  make  her  close  her  eyes  with 
delight,  she  might  possibly,  on  a  mad  impulse,  go  fly- 
ing off  to  him.  Only,  it  would  depend;  there  would 
have  to  be  things  in  that  letter  — 

When,  at  last,  she  went  tumultuously  into  the 
boarding-house,  she  ran  through  the  heap  of  letters 
twice  fruitlessly. 

"  It  came  by  messenger ;  Josephus  must  have  taken 
it  up-stairs,"  she  thought. 

She  ran  up  breathlessly,  anxious  and  yet  afraid, 


i/8  THE  SALAMANDER 

flinging  open  the  door,  gazing  blankly  at  the  floor, 
then  ransacking  rapidly  the  table,  the  bureau-tops,  the 
mantelpiece.  Nothing  had  come  —  he  had  not  writ- 
ten! She  sat  down  furiously.  She  could  not  com- 
prehend! On  the  table  a  great  bouquet  of  orchids, 
with  "  Pouffe  "  in  golden  letters  on  the  purple  ribbon, 
was  waiting.  She  saw  it  heedlessly. 

He  had  not  written!  Why?  She  could  not  un- 
derstand —  could  find  no  explanation.  How  could 
any  one  be  so  thoughtless,  so  cruel  ? 

"I  will  telephone  him  myself!"  she  thought  an- 
grily, springing  up. 

She  went  to  the  door  precipitately,  before  she  could 
control  herself.  Then  she  stopped,  wringing  her 
hands,  shaking  her  head.  Perhaps  he  had  come  in 
person.  She  rang  for  Josephus.  Had  any  one  called  ? 
Had  there  been  a  message?  None.  Perhaps  he  had 
telephoned,  and  Winona  had  made  a  note  of  it.  She 
went  hastily  to  the  pad  where  such  notes  were  jotted 
down.  But  the  page,  to  her  dismay,  was  blank.  She 
sat  down  quietly,  folding  her  arms  across  her  breast, 
gazing  out  of  the  window.  All  at  once  she  bounded 
up,  went  rapidly  down  the  hall,  and  entered  Ida  Sum- 
mers' room. 

"  Come  on.  You're  lunching  with  me.  No  ex- 
cuses ! " 

"Where?     With  whom?" 

"  Doesn't  matter  —  come !     I'll  tell  you  later !  " 

"  Good  heavens !  what's  the  matter,  Do  ?  " 

"Nothing!  I'm  a  fool  —  I  don't  know.  Only 
let's  get  out !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  179 

Yes,  she  was  a  fool !  The  explanation  was  obvious ! 
While  she  had  been  soaring  with  her  dreams,  he  had 
gone  quietly  about  his  day.  What  had  set  her  in  a 
whirl  had  meant  nothing  to  him  —  nothing  at  all! 
And  for  the  moment,  forgetting  what  had  happened, 
forgetting  how  he  had  at  the  last  returned,  seeking 
admittance,  she  said  to  herself  bitterly  that  she  must 
have  gone  mad  to  imagine  for  an  instant  that  there 
had  been  anything  more  than  a  moment's  amusement 
between  Judge  Massingale  and  a  crazy  little  fool  liv- 
ing in  the  third  floor  front  of  a  cheap  boarding-house. 

"  Now  to  do  as  I  please,"  she  said  recklessly. 
"  We'll  see  if  I'm  of  so  little  consequence.  Sassoon 
and  Blood  shall  pay  for  this !  " 

Ida  Summers,  overwhelmed  at  the  prospect  of  meet- 
ing Alfred  Edward  Sassoon,  was  excitedly  clamoring: 

"  But,  Do,  heavens !  Give  me  a  pointer ;  I'll  never 
be  able  to  say  a  word  to  a  swell  like  that!  What  do 
you  talk  about  ?  " 

"  Anything!  "  said  Dore  savagely.  "  What  does  he 
care  what  you  talk  about!  Or  any  of  them!  Look 
him  in  the  eyes,  smile,  flirt!  Did  you  ever  flirt  with 
a  butcher's  boy?" 

"Heavens!     Dodo!" 

"  Well,  I  did!     They're  all  the  same!  " 

"What's  happened?" 

Dore  shrugged  her  shoulders.  But  by  the  time  they 
had  drawn  up  in  front  of  Tenafly's  she  had  regained 
her  calm  in  a  dangerous  coldness  bent  on  mischief. 

Sassoon  came  up  softly,  looking  questions  at  this 
unexpected  presentation  of  a  third. 


i8o  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  more  comfortable  in 
public  this  way,  instead  of  tete-a-tete,"  said  Dore 
briefly,  making  the  introduction.  "  You  see  how  con- 
siderate I  am !  " 

"  Delighted,  of  course,"  said  Sassoon,  in  his  low 
unvarying  tones.  "  Don't  you  think  we'd  be  better 
up-stairs?  " 

"  I  said  in  the  restaurant,"  answered  Dore  peremp- 
torily. 

Sassoon  bowed,  signaled  a  waiter,  and  led  the  way. 
She  had  gone  hardly  twenty  steps  into  the  chattering 
curious  room,  which  stared  at  this  public  spectacle  of 
Sassoon,  when  her  eye  fell  on  the  figure  of  Judge  Mas- 
singale.  Their  eyes  met.  She  felt  a  sudden  burn- 
ing shame  there  before  every  one,  wavered,  and  went 
hurriedly  to  her  seat. 

He  had  seen  her!  What  would  he  think?  Would 
he  misunderstand  her  at  seeing  her  thus  publicly 
flaunted  by  Sassoon?  What  awful  conclusions  might 
not  come  into  his  mind  at  this  persistent  dogging  of 
her  steps?  And  after  what  had  happened  last  night, 
with  the  memory  of  her  blind  clinging  to  him,  the 
soft  confession  of  her  voice,  what  would  he  think  now? 
Let  him  think  what  he  wished,  so  long  as  he  should 
suffer  a  little!  If  he  were  here,  he  could  have  come 
to  her!  If  he  were  so  mechanical,  she  would  teach 
him  jealousy. 

But  these  thoughts,  timorous,  elated,  determined,  ex- 
pectant, were  not  clearly  defined  to  her.  She  had  a 
sensation  of  fleeting  emotions,  utterly  uncontrolled. 
She  began  to  chat  rapidly  without  saying  anything  at 


THE  SALAMANDER  181 

all,  seeking  in  the  arrangement  of  the  mirrors  a  fav- 
orable angle.  At  last  she  saw  his  table,  and  the  direct 
confrontation  of  his  stare.  He  was  with  a  large  party, 
mixed,  a  dozen  at  the  least,  and  he  was  still  looking 
in  her  direction. 

"  I  don't  care  if  he  is  furious,"  she  thought  defiantly. 
"If  he  is  furious,  he  cares!  I  shall  see  him  —  talk 
to  him.  He'll  make  an  excuse !  " 

She  did  not  cease  talking,  but  she  did  not  hear  a 
word  she  said  or  notice  what  Sassoon  replied.  She 
thought  Ida  was  making  grammatical  errors  in  her  ex- 
cessive efforts  to  give  the  conversation  dignity,  and 
from  the  bored  nervous  way  in  which  Sassoon  was 
listening,  she  divined  his  fury  at  being  thus  circum- 
vented. This  pleased  her.  She  wanted  to  be  sure 
that  Massingale  could  be  jealous,  but,  in  some  con- 
fused way,  she  wanted  Sassoon  to  be  punished. 

All  at  once  in  the  mirror  she  saw  Massingale  rise 
to  take  his  leave.  In  another  moment,  surely,  he  would 
turn  as  he  came  toward  them.  She  would  see  him, 
talk  to  him,  look  into  his  eyes.  She  began  hurriedly, 
frantically,  laughing  at  nothing,  to  run  from  topic  to 
topic,  gesturing  to  attract  her  own  eyes  to  the  table, 
so  that  he  might  not  perceive  her  agitation  or  know 
the  sinking  of  her  heart  as  she  felt  him  nearer  and 
nearer. 

He  was  there,  almost  at  her  back,  coming  to  her. 
In  a  moment  she  would  hear  his  voice,  that  deep  con- 
trolled tone,  speaking  her  name.  She  was  sure  now 
that  she  was  blushing,  that  her  sparkling  eyes  betrayed 
her,  that  Sassoon,  Ida  surely,  had  guessed  her  agita- 


1 82  THE  SALAMANDER 

tion.  But  she  did  not  care!  She  felt  only  an  ex- 
quisite happiness,  a  bodily  glow.  And  all  at  once  she 
saw  that  he  had  passed  without  even  an  attempt  to 
catch  her  eye.  He  was  in  the  doorway,  and  he  was 
gone! 

Why?  Was  it  anger  that  she  should  be  there  with 
Sassoon?  If  it  were  only  true!  She  tried  to  seize 
upon  this  idea,  but  all  her  courage  had  evaporated. 
She  felt  all  at  once  without  enthusiasm.  If  that  were 
so,  then  she  was  wrong;  perhaps  he  would  never  be- 
lieve her. 

"  That  was  Judge  Massingale,  wasn't  it  ?  "  she  said 
aimlessly. 

Sassoon  jerked  his  head  in  assent,  adding  viciously: 

"  Family  affair.  Gets  out  as  soon  as  he  can.  Mrs. 
Massingale  entertaining  some  imported  geniuses,  prob- 
ably." 

"Who?" 

"  Mrs.  Massingale." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MRS.  MASSINGALE !  Dore  heard  the  name  a 
second  time  without  quite  realizing  what  it 
meant,  as  if  the  sound  were  suspended  in  the  air  be- 
fore her,  waiting  for  recognition  before  taking  flight. 
She  did  not  comprehend  —  she  could  not  comprehend ! 
The  thing  was  too  incredible! 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Massingale,"  she  repeated  mechanically. 

All  at  once  a  sharp  pain  penetrated  to  her  heart. 
The  riot  of  fork  and  knife,  the  busy  live  sounds  of 
conversation,  were  lost  in  a  confused  drumming  in 
her  ears.  Everything  became  blurred  to  her  eyes,  ex- 
cept the  mounting  W  of  Sassoon's  mustache  and  the 
round  eyes  of  Ida,  which  seemed  to  grow  rounder  and 
bigger  before  her.  She  felt  suddenly  stricken,  and 
yet  unable  to  cry  out  —  suffocated.  She  let  her  head 
fall  slowly,  staring  at  the  plate  before  her,  a  yellow 
and  red  plate  with  a  curious  scroll  design  in  the  center. 
No!  She  could  not  understand.  It  was  not  possible 
that  such  a  thing  could  befall  her.  Married!  Mas- 
singale married !  Blackness  —  a  wall  —  a  wall  that 
had  no  opening,  that  could  not  be  scaled  or  turned. 

A  waiter  was  offering  something  at  her  side.  She 
nodded,  taking  up  a  fork,  all  quite  mechanically. 

Inside  she  felt  a  hand  closing  over  her  heart,  con- 
tracting it  painfully.  Then  all  at  once  she  experi- 

183 


1 84  THE  SALAMANDER 

enced  a  burning  feeling  of  shame  and  anger  across  her 
shoulders,  on  her  cheeks,  and  on  her  lips  where  his 
kisses  had  touched  her.  How  she  had  been  entrapped, 
blindly,  foolishly  entrapped,  caught  and  humiliated  at 
the  last,  despite  all  her  cleverness!  Now  she  under- 
stood, in  a  flash  of  understanding,  why  he  had  not 
come,  why  he  had  not  written,  why  he  had  not  tele- 
phoned! He  had  gone  further  than  he  had  meant. 
It  was  his  conscience  he  was  fleeing  from  —  that  con- 
science he  had  forgot  when  he  had  returned  to  her 
door! 

"  I  understand !  I  shall  see  him  no  more !  "  a  voice 
said  within  her.  "  It's  all  over.  It  never  was  any- 
thing!" 

She  felt  within  her  the  beginnings  of  many  fierce 
emotions  —  despair,  blinding  anger,  a  fierce  unrea- 
soning desire  for  revenge,  a  revolt  against  the  forces 
that  had  tricked  her.  But  these  slumbering  points  of 
fire  did  not  leap  up  instantly.  The  shock  that  sud- 
denly had  arrested  her  very  being,  seemed  to  have  ar- 
rested the  operation  of  her  sensibilities :  they  did  not 
respond  —  they  were  numbed.  The  realization  was 
staggering.  She  could  not  meet  it;  she  rejected  it, 
striving  to  send  it  from  her.  She  felt  hurt,  horribly, 
weakly  hurt;  but  she  did  not  wish  to  acknowledge 
what  had  happened.  She  only  knew,  in  a  groping 
way,  that  something  horrible  had  suddenly  fallen  on 
her  out  of  a  clear  sky  —  something  that  meant  the 
end  of  all  things,  the  lurking  tragedy  in  her  life: 
something  that  she  would,  perhaps,  never,  never  live 
down! 


THE  SALAMANDER  185 

All  at  once  she  began  to  talk,  looking  at  Sassoon 
with  a  dangerous  provoking  light  in  her  eyes,  her 
cheeks  unnaturally  flushed,  reckless  and  defiant. 

"  Poor  Mr.  Sassoon !  Ida,  look  at  him.  Did  you 
ever  see  a  man  so  miserable?  He's  furious  at  me. 
He  was  counting  on  such  a  confidential,  intimate  lit- 
tle luncheon!  It  really  is  a  shame  to  play  him  such 
a  trick !  But  I  warned  him  —  I  always  play  fair.  I 
told  him  he  was  no  match  for  us !  "  She  laughed  at 
his  puzzled  expression,  rushing  on :  "  Really,  though, 
you  should  conceal  your  feelings  better.  You  should 
learn  from  women.  We  never  show  what  we  feel !  " 

Did  she  show  what  was  tearing  at  her  heart  ?  She 
wondered.  She  did  not  care!  There  was  nothing 
but  injustice  in  the  world.  What  had  she  done  to  de- 
serve such  a  blow?  If  she  had  to  suffer,  others 
should  suffer  too!  Sassoon's  eyes  were  lighting  up, 
tantalized  by  this  frantic  savagery  in  the  woman.  She 
saw  the  look,  and  laughed  at  it,  knowing  the  bit- 
terness she  had  reserved  for  him.  Now  she  was 
scarcely  polite  to  him,  mocking  him  to  his  face,  ea- 
gerly awaking  within  him  the  demons  of  covetousness 
and  revenge. 

"  What  has  happened  to  her?"  thought  Ida,  watch- 
ing her  anxiously. 

"  Pretty  little  devil,  she'll  pay  for  this !  "  thought 
Sassoon,  blinking  at  her,  his  arms  before  him,  rub- 
bing the  back  of  his  soft  hands  with  his  quiet,  com- 
bustibly  patient  gesture. 

"  Ah,  there's  Mr.  Blood  at  last !  "  Dodo  cried,  all  at 
once.  "  Now  it  will  be  more  amusing ! " 


186  THE  SALAMANDER 

She  waited  tremulously  the  meeting  of  the  two  men 
— •  these  two  who  should  pay  so  dear  to  her  what  she 
had  received  in  injustice. 

Sassoon  did  not  rise.  He  shot  a  searching  angry 
glance  at  Dore,  closed  one  hand  tightly  over  the  other 
and  raised  his  eyebrows  in  interrogation  at  the  new- 
comer. 

"  Quarter  of  three,"  said  Blood,  standing,  and 
barely  nodding  to  Sassoon.  "  I've  been  waiting 
fifteen  minutes  —  that's  quite  enough.  Miss  Baxter, 
you  belong  to  me  now !  " 

"  Oh,  is  it  as  late  as  that?  " 

"  Is  Mr.  Blood  here  on  your  invitation,  Miss  Bax- 
ter ?  "  said  Sassoon  deliberately. 

"  Yes.  We  had  an  engagement  for  a  ride  up  the 
river.  I'm  afraid  I've  kept  him  waiting." 

"  Turn  about  is  fair  play,"  said  Harrigan  Blood  ag- 
gressively. 

The  looks  the  two  men  exchanged  said  what  their 
meaningless  phrases  concealed. 

Ida  Summers,  not  in  the  secret,  yet  scenting  compli- 
cations, remained  watching,  puzzled  and  a  little  ap- 
prehensive. 

"  My  turn  later  then,"  said  Sassoon,  with  perfect 
politeness.  He  smiled  a  little,  but  it  was  a  malicious 
smile. 

"  He  detests  me  now,"  thought  Dore,  with  a  first 
curious  unease  at  this  controlled  oriental  passion,  stub- 
born, willing  to  wait  endlessly. 

She  was  right.  The  humiliation  which  he  accepted 
calmly,  with  an  inward  raging,  had  roused  the  brute 


THE  SALAMANDER  187 

within  him,  but  not  the  brute  that  gives  up  the  hunt. 
To  run  her  down  at  the  last,  to  have  the  woman 
whom  he  curiously  hated  and  desired,  who  hated  and 
resisted  him,  but  could  not  resist  beyond  the  tempta- 
tions he  would  spread  —  that  was  a  passion  worth 
any  amount  of  money;  that  alone  could  make  money 
precious  to  him. 

"  I  may  at  least  be  permitted  to  accompany  you  to 
the  door,"  he  said,  showing  his  white,  sharp  little 
teeth  in  a  well-constructed  smile,  surprising  them  by 
his  self-possession.  "  I  am  glad  to  know  Mr.  Har- 
rigan  Blood  is  a  rival;  it  simplifies  matters,  doesn't 
it?" 

"  Yes,  bandit,"  said  Blood,  making  the  sign  of 
drawing  a  knife. 

Sassoon  having  helped  Dore  into  her  coat,  stood 
holding  her  hand. 

"  What  consoles  me  is  that  I  am  sure  Mr.  Harrigan 
Blood  is  no  more  a  match  for  you  than  I  am !  "  Then 
he  added  imperturbably,  looking  her  boldly  in  the 
eyes:  "You  are  very  beautiful.  You  have  a  right 
to  be  as  tantalizing  as  you  like!  I  shan't  object  in 
the  least!  Give  me  credit,  pretty  little  tigress,  for 
being  quite  submissive !  " 

"  Lordy,  I  think  you're  an  angel,  Mr.  Sassoon," 
said  Ida  Summers,  who  was  sentimental,  and  who  had 
the  advantage  of  completely  missing  the  situation. 

:'  Your  sympathy  is  very  consoling ,  Miss  Sum- 
mers," said  Sassoon  curtly,  turning  on  his  heel. 

He  went  evenly  to  the  telephone  booth  and  called  up 
his  confidential  broker: 


1 88  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Humphreys,  I  want  you  to  get  me  a  little  infor- 
mation very  quietly." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Sassoon?" 

"  Find  out  what  is  the  extent  of  Mr.  Harrigan 
Blood's  holdings  in  the  stock  market.  I  want  com- 
plete information,  especially  as  to  what  he  is  holding 
on  margins.  Treat  the  matter  as  absolutely  confi- 
dential!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IDA  SUMMERS  insisted  on  departing  on  her  own 
ways,  laughingly  proclaiming  that  if  she  couldn't 
be  provided  with  an  adorer  she  wasn't  going  to  sit  by 
for  a  second  time  and  spoil  the  fun.  Dore  let  her  go 
without  protest.  She  did  not  care  now.  Her  head 
ached.  She  could  not  collect  her  thoughts  —  could 
not  place  before  her  what  had  happened.  That 
everything  had  suddenly  ceased,  that  in  the  cataclysm 
her  youth,  her  dreams,  her  joy  in  being,  were  swal- 
lowed up,  she  knew.  Something  had  happened,  and 
yet  she  could  not  distinctly  perceive  it. 

They  went  rushing  up  the  crowded  driveway,  and 
on  along  the  open  Hudson,  hour  after  hour.  The 
man  at  her  side,  leaning  forward  eagerly,  facing  her, 
talked  incessantly  —  talked  to  her  as  a  man  does  only 
when  he  seeks  to  unfold  all  that  he  has  to  impress  a 
woman.  She  answered  correctly;  she  even  heard 
phrases  and  repeated  them  mechanically,  seeking  to 
comprehend  them. 

'''  You  are  more  than  life  —  you  are  youth  itself. 
I  don't  know  why  —  every  reason  —  you  attract  me, 
but  I  know  I'm  groping  for  you ! 

"  Yes,  it's  youth,  youth,  a  man  like  myself  needs  — 
the  feeling  of  youth  again,  the  daring  of  youth,  im- 
petuous, magnificent.  That's  what  you  can  give  me! 

189 


190  THE  SALAMANDER 

"I'll  give  everything  —  not  by  half  measures;  I 
want  you  to  know  all  I'm  holding  back.  You'll  know 
the  greatest  joy  in  the  world,  of  sharing  everything!  " 

Once  he  took  her  hand.  Then  she  turned,  and 
without  withdrawing  the  fingers,  which  felt  no  sensa- 
tion, said: 

"Don't  do  that!" 

And  he  obeyed. 

She  listened,  seeking  only  the  sadness  in  the  sky, 
the  melancholy  of  isolated  and  distant  things.  She 
knew  her  heart  was  broken,  that  nothing  could  ever 
exist  for  her  again.  No,  never  could  she  feel  a  pal- 
pitating joy ;  it  would  all  be  gray  and  brown  —  brown 
and  gray  as  the  worn  hills  about  her,  nature,  which 
had  forgot  its  May!  And  at  the  same  time  she 
listened,  smiling  and  provocative,  to  this  other  man 
who  passionately  courted  her,  laying  open  his  inner- 
most soul  for  her  inspection  —  a  man  who  proclaimed 
again  and  again  that  she  drew  him  to  her  by  the  glow 
of  her  youth  and  the  joy  of  life. 

That  afternoon  was  like  a  phantasmagoria.  Even 
he,  at  the  end,  noticed  her  mental  numbness. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  looked  at  him,  smiling  negation. 

"  You  seem  crushed,  as  if  I  could  stick  a  pin  in  you! 
What's  wrong?  Has  that  beast  Sassoon  in- 
sulted—?" 

She  shook  her  head.  Even  this  incongruity  did  not 
penetrate. 

"  Listen !  "  he  went  on,  retaining  her  hand  as  she 


THE  SALAMANDER  191 

started  to  descend.  "  I'm  not  a  fool !  I  won't  throw 
myself  away  on  any  woman !  I'll  play  fair,  too,  and 
open.  I  don't  want  backing  and  pulling  —  I  want 
things  to  be  big,  direct,  honest!  You  know  what  I 
feel;  you  know  what  I'm  capable  of  feeling!  Don't 
you?" 

She  smiled  and  nodded,  without  comprehending  in 
the  least.  She  was  thinking,  with  a  desperate  long- 
ing, of  the  shelter  of  her  room,  still  so  far  away. 

"  Very  well.  I'm  going  to  see  you  once  more,"  he 
said  abruptly.  "  Then  it's  for  you  to  decide.  If  you 
want  me  to  come,"  —  he  hesitated  to  give  full  em- 
phasis,—  "  it's  for  you  to  send  for  me !  " 

She  remembered  the  ultimatum  afterward.  Now 
she  murmured  something  commonplace. 

He  caught  her  hand. 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  now?  " 

"  What  ?  "  she  said,  striving  to  recall  his  meaning. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  come  ?    Is  it  your  wish  ?  " 

"  Why  —  yes,  why  not  ?  "  she  answered  mechanic- 
ally —  nor  did  she  see  what  leaped  into  his  eyes. 

She  went  hurriedly  up  the  stoop  and  in.  Suddenly 
she  had  the  feeling  that  she  used  to  have  when  she 
had  left  the  tense  concentrated  glare  of  the  footlights 
and  passed  into  the  relief  of  the  shadowy  wings. 
The  smiles  fled  from  her  lips,  the  nervous  provocative 
mask  dropped  away.  She  felt  a  mortal  heaviness  of 
accomplishment.  She  had  lasted  through  the  after- 
noon; she  had  not  betrayed  herself.  Half-way  up  the 
second  flight,  she  sat  down  abruptly,  exhausted ;  then, 


192  THE  SALAMANDER 

straining  every  nerve  in  her  body,  she  reached  the 
haven  of  her  room,  as  a  spent  swimmer  battling  for 
the  shore. 

Then  a  new  trial.  From  behind  her  door  came  the 
sound  of  voices.  Again  she  took  up  her  mask.  The 
next  moment  Winona  had  sprung  to  her,  embracing 
her  feverishly,  crying: 

"  I've  got  it!     I've  got  it,  you  darling!  " 

"  Ah  —  Blainey,"  she  said,  suffering  her  embrace. 

But  Winona,  not  to  be  prevented,  continued  hug- 
ging her  frantically,  babbling  everything,  all  in  a 
breath,  frantic  with  joy  and  relief  —  Winona,  whom 
the  night  before  she  had  held  sobbing  in  her  arms, 
who  to-day  was  the  deliriously  happy  one! 

Then  she  saw  Snyder  standing  apart,  and  at  her 
skirts  a  little  girl,  half  child,  half  baby,  clinging,  shyly 
revolted.  As  soon  as  Dore  saw  her,  she  went  for- 
ward impulsively,  kneeling  and  holding  out  her  arms. 
The  child,  with  the  divining  instinct  of  childhood  to- 
ward suffering,  to  the  amazement  of  the  others,  ran 
swiftly  into  her  embrace.  Dore  carried  her  to  a 
chair,  holding  her  head  from  her,  looking  into  the 
starry  eyes. 

"What's  your  name?" 

"  Betty." 

From  that  moment  she  forgot  the  others.  The 
room  seemed  narrowed  to  their  embrace,  each  cling- 
ing to  the  other.  These  arms,  so  warm  against  her 
neck,  this  soft  weight  against  her  breast,  filled  her 
with  immeasurable  awakening  sadness,  but  a  sadness 
that  deadened  the  consciousness  of  self,  as  if  this  in- 


THE  SALAMANDER  193 

nocence  were  the  only  affection  that  could  understand, 
the  only  one  that  could  minister  to  her  pain!  This 
helplessness  pressing  against  her  breast  recalled  her 
poignant  childhood,  unmothered  yet  often  in  passion- 
ate grief  groping  for  maternal  arms.  If  only  now 
she  could  go  in  weakness,  somewhere  to  confide  her 
crushed  body  weakly  as  a  wounded  child!  If  only 
the  others  would  go  and  leave  her  thus  — 

How  long  she  remained  thus  she  did  not  know. 
Winona  went,  returned  and  departed.  All  at  once 
Snyder  was  standing  above  them,  saying : 

"  Sorry  —  time's  up !  Young  one  must  be  getting 
home  to  roost !  " 

She  took  her  convulsively  to  her  breast.  She  did 
not  know  whether  it  soothed  or  hurt  her  more;  only 
that  it  started  within  her  a  passionate  hunger  for  this 
innocence  that  responded,  this  incomprehension  that 
understood!  She  rose  abruptly. 

"  Bring  her  often  —  often !  "  she  said,  turning 
away  her  face. 

A  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  black  hand  of  Jose- 
phus  extending  a  letter. 

She  knew  at  once  whose  letter  it  was;  no  need  to 
look!  She  clutched  it,  hiding  it  against  her  dress. 
Betty,  clinging  to  her  skirts,  indignant  at  her  change 
of  mood,  clamored  for  recognition.  She  bent  over, 
kissed  her  swiftly,  laughed.  Then  she  was  alone. 

She  looked  at  the  letter,  but  she  did  not  open  it. 
Instead,  she  placed  it  on  a  table,  locked  the  doors,  and 
clutching  her  hands  until  the  nails  cut  in,  began  to 
pace  the  floor. 


I94  THE  SALAMANDER 

If  he  had  dared  —  to  seek  another  meeting! 

She  felt  a  hot  indignant  anger  wrapping  her  whole 
body.  She  would  show  him  her  scorn!  At  one  mo- 
ment she  was  on  the  point  of  tearing  up  the  letter  un- 
read, at  the  next  of  sending  it  back  contemptuously. 
At  the  end  she  opened  it  and  read : 

"Dear  Miss  Baxter: 

"  I  was  out  of  my  head.  ...  I  should  have  known  my  limita- 
tions. ...  I  didn't.  I  am  very  sorry,  and  I  only  am  to  blame. 
Some  later  day  I  want  to  be  your  good  friend.  .  .  .  Do  you  un- 
derstand? 

"  With  great  respect, 

"  L.  M." 

When  she  had  read  this  unexpected  renunciation, 
she  forgot  all  her  anger,  all  her  resistance. 

"  He  will  never  see  me  again ! "  she  said,  with  a 
sob,  pressing  the  letter  convulsively  against  her  tears. 

She  needed  no  second  reading  to  understand  that. 
She  put  the  crumpled  sheet  into  her  waist,  striking 
her  temples  with  her  little  fists  as  she  had  once  struck 
him,  repeating: 

"Never!" 

In  this  moment  she  no  longer  had  any  doubts.  She 
loved  him  madly,  with  an  intensity  that  obliterated 
everything  else.  And  now  all  this  must  be  strangled ; 
for,  in  her  strange  self- formed  morality,  such  a  love 
was  unthinkable.  The  only  man  who  had  known 
how  to  take  her,  to  see  through  her  acting,  to  reach 
out  roughly,  brutally,  like  a  master  —  this  man  be- 
longed to  another  woman ;  —  was  barred  to  her  for- 
ever! 


THE  SALAMANDER  195 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  Why  —  why  should  I  be 
punished  this  way?" 

Suddenly  she  seized  a  chair,  and  dragging  it  to  the 
side  window,  sat  down,  her  chin  in  her  hands,  staring 
through  the  glass  at  the  sheer  blankness  of  brick 
only  a  few  feet  away.  It  was  beginning  to  be 
dusk.  She  felt  herself  caught;  she  yielded  every- 
thing. The  thought  of  pain  was  so  abhorrent  to  her 
nature,  she  had  always  rushed  so  fearfully  from  the 
contact  of  suffering,  that,  now  when  she  was  caught 
without  escape,  everything  crumbled.  In  this  abject 
moment,  as  her  body  yielded  to  the  pervading  process 
of  the  dusk,  she  turned  back  over  the  entangled  prog- 
ress of  her  life,  convinced  that  she  was  paying  fear- 
fully in  retribution  for  selfishness  and  wickedness. 

Life,  which  rises  out  of  the  past  in  its  naked  pro- 
portions only  when  we  dumbly  seek  a  reason  for  the 
calamity  that  overwhelms  us,  came  thus  to  her  as  a 
conviction.  What  had  happened  must  be  her  punish- 
ment. 

She  saw  her  progress  as  though  she  were  looking 
down  at  great  revolving  spirals,  complete  in  them- 
selves, yet  merging  in  an  upward  progress.  How 
many  men  —  not  by  tens,  but  by  scores  —  she  had 
deliberately  used  in  her  upward  striving! 

"  Yes ;  this  is  my  punishment ! "  she  said  breath- 
lessly. She  had  a  feeling  that  they  —  the  others  — 
were  now  to  be  revenged. 

She  had  only  a  faint  impression  of  her  home  in  a 
little  village  town  of  Ohio.  Home  it  had  never  been. 


196  THE  SALAMANDER 

Her  father,  brilliant,  erratic,  emigrant  from  New 
England,  half  politician,  half  journalist,  had  suddenly 
disappeared  from  her  life  when  she  was  not  yet  in  her 
teens.  They  had  told  her  many  things  at  the  time. 
Afterward  she  had  divined  what  must  have  happened 

—  unhappiness,  flight  with  another  woman,  divorce. 
Her  mother,  perhaps  the  most  to  blame,  had  remarried 
immediately.     She  had  known  nothing  of  her  step- 
father, only  that  he  was  some  one  in  power  in  Ciacin- 
nati  politics,  and  well-off.     She  had  been  left  to  the 
care  of  an  aunt,  and  very  soon  she  had  realized  that 
her  duty  in  life  was  to  make  her  own  way. 

And  this  way  she  had  achieved,  or  rather  had  made 
others  achieve  for  her.  She  had  been  precocious, 
feeling  herself  a  little  mongrel  who  must  captivate 
by  its  tricks.  How  simple  it  had  all  been  —  this  curi- 
ous spiral  mounting  from  the  pillared  house  at  the  cor- 
ner of  the  village  green,  through  various  strata,  to  this 

—  to  New  York,  and  to  the  heart  of  New  York  at  the 
last!     She  could  never  remember  the  time  when  she 
had  not  had  the  devotion  of  the  opposite  sex.     No  one 
had  ever  needed  to  teach  her  the  art  of  pleasing,  yet 
she  had  known  how  to  exercise  it  everywhere.     She 
remembered  curious  odd  figures,  girlhood  admirers, 
whom  she  blushed  now  to  have  cared  even  to  attract. 
How  her  ideas  had  changed !     How  she  had  been  edu- 
cated !     And  how  many  different  types  of  men  she  had 
known!     At  first   it  had  been  the  grocery  clerk,   a 
ruddy  Saxon,  who  had  cut  prices  and  swollen  meas- 
ures, fatuously,  for  her  sake ;  then  a  young  engineer  on 
the  railroad  who  had  appealed  to  her  imagination ;  lit- 


THE  SALAMANDER  197 

tie  storekeepers,  a  local  reporter,  the  captain  of  the 
village  nine  —  a  giant  in  those  days :  not  singly,  but  a 
dozen  at  once  at  her  feet. 

Next  she  had  gone  to  high  school  in  Toledo,  where 
for  the  first  time  she  had  judged  her  local  admirers  by 
the  standards  of  the  city,  a  metropolis  to  her.  There 
it  had  been  another  upward  circle  —  students  in  the 
university,  young  lawyers,  scrub  doctors,  embryo  mer- 
chants, demigods  by  comparison.  This  first  taste  of 
the  life  of  the  city  had  decided  her.  She  returned  to 
her  home  but  once  —  to  leave  it  forever.  She  had 
sought  a  little  capital  and  had  obtained  a  few  hundred 
dollars.  There  she  had  learned  that  her  mother  had 
been  divorced,  married  again,  and  that  it  was  quite 
hopeless  to  apply  to  her.  She  had  had  an  enormous 
success  on  that  return,  with  her  city  clothes  and  her  im- 
posing manners.  The  grocer's  clerk  had  given  up  in 
despair  at  first  sight ;  the  others  had  hung  back  awed, 
realizing  that  she  was  not  stuff  for  them.  And  here 
she  had  taken  her  first  confidence,  her  first  belief  in  her 
star  —  in  her  star,  which  was  not  stationary,  but  which 
should  travel. 

She  had  given,  as  excuse  against  the  frantic  objec- 
tions of  her  aunt,  that  she  must  prepare  herself  to  earn 
her  living  by  stenography.  She  started  zealously  to 
equip  herself,  going  to  Cleveland  and  taking  a  modest 
hall  bedroom  at  four  dollars  a  week,  board  included. 
She  continued  firm  in  this  resolve  for  exactly  two 
weeks.  But  application  was  against  her  volatile  na- 
ture. Besides,  her  masculine  acquaintance  had  as- 
sumed such  proportions  that  she  could  find  no  time  for 


198  THE  SALAMANDER  , 

work.  And  suddenly  she  had  met  Josh  Nebbins,  press- 
agent  for  a  local  theater. 

She  had  been  attracted  to  him  immediately  by  his 
shoes  —  patent  leather  with  chamois  tops,  that  looked 
like  spats  and  distinguished  him  from  the  common 
herd.  He  wore  a  colored  handkerchief  in  his  breast- 
pocket, English  style,  red  or  green  shirts,  and  coats 
with  curious  pointed  cuffs,  which  she  felt  only  a  New 
York  tailor  could  have  imagined.  He  had  had  the 
greatest  influence  on  her  life.  He  had  shown  her  the 
easy  way  to  things  people  coveted,  analyzing  the  phil- 
osophy of  her  sex  with  his  shrewd  philosophy  of  life, 
contemptuous,  successful  and  witty. 

"  Play  the  game,  kid  —  play  the  game,"  he  would 
say  to  her.  "  The  world's  full  of  soft  suckers  ready 
to  fall  for  a  pretty  pair  of  lamps,  and  yours  are  Ai 
flashers.  Make  'em  give  you  what  you  want!  Fol- 
low my  tips  and  I'll  show  you  how.  And  say,  don't 
for  one  moment  think  you  have  to  give  up  anything 
for  what  you  get.  No,  sir,  not  Anno  Domini,  U.  S. 
Ameriky !  " 

She  had  taken  his  tips,  followed  his  leads.  She  had 
soon  learned  how  to  acquire  whatever  she  needed.  If 
it  was  a  dress,  there  was  always  an  admirer  in  a  whole- 
sale store  who  frantically  insisted  on  the  privilege  of 
making  a  present.  Another  placed  a  carriage  at  her 
disposal,  grateful  for  the  privilege  of  her  company 
when  it  pleased  her.  Other  presents  were  easily  con- 
vertible. 

Nebbins  had  even  changed  her  name.  She  had 
been  called  Flossie,  a  contraction  from  Florence.  He 


THE  SALAMANDER  199 

had  disapproved  and  invented  Dore,  and  she  had  ac- 
cepted enthusiastically.  She  had  a  strange  intuition 
that  what  he  did  would  result  for  her  good,  and  obeyed 
implicitly  —  yes,  with  even  an  uneducated  admiration. 
They  had  become  engaged.  She  would  have  mar- 
ried him,  but  he  was  too  much  in  love  not  to  be  proud. 
He  wanted  three  thousand  in  the  bank,  and  so  they 
had  waited. 

Through  his  offices,  she  had  begun  as  a  super  in  the 
local  stock  company,  advancing  to  an  occasional  speak- 
ing part.  She  had  been  at  home  at  once  on  the  stage ; 
she  felt  born  for  this.  The  next  season  she  had  entered 
another  stock  company  playing  a  circuit,  as  a  regular 
member.  She  had  wept  desperately  on  leaving  Neb- 
bins,  completely  under  his  ascendency.  She  had  even 
offered  at  the  last  moment  to  throw  up  everything  and 
marry  him.  He  had  refused  honestly.  She  had  not 
seen  him  since. 

This  memory  tortured  her.  She  had  soon  pro- 
gressed to  where  she  had  seen  him  in  true  perspective, 
or  rather  in  his  ridiculous  lights.  She  quickly  grew 
ashamed  of  the  romance.  It  was  something  she 
would  have  blotted  from  her  life,  the  more  so  because 
at  the  bottom  she  felt  an  obligation,  and  it  revolted 
her  to  think  that  what  she  was  become  had,  at  a  criti- 
cal moment,  depended  on  a  Yankee  press-agent  named 
Josh  Nebbins,  who  wore  ridiculous  patent  leather/ 
shoes  with  chamois  tops ! 

She  was  ashamed,  and  at  the  same  time  she  was 
afraid  —  afraid  lest  at  some  time  this  persistent  man, 
to  whom  her  word  had  once  indiscreetly  been  given, 


200  THE  SALAMANDER 

should  surge  up  out  of  the  past  and  claim  her!  He 
had  been  the  only  man  from  whom  she  had  ever  di- 
rectly accepted  money.  It  had  not  been  much, —  a 
hundred  dollars  given  as  a  reserve ;  they  were  engaged 
to  be  married;  he  had  silenced  her  objections, —  but 
still  the  fact  remained.  She  had  a  thousand  times 
resolved  to  pay  it  back  —  to  rid  herself  of  this  fetter 
of  the  past.  She  had  never  done  so.  This  was  her 
greatest  reproach. 

From  Nebbins  on,  the  way  had  not  been  difficult. 
She  had  never  saved  much  money,  nor  continued  long 
in  one  opportunity;  but  she  had  learned  confidence, 
and  how  easy  opportunities  rise  for  a  pretty  girl  with 
audacity  and  wit.  But  always,  in  her  progress  from 
city  to  capital,  from  capital  to  metropolis,  she  felt  a 
shadowy  crowd  of  men,  reproachful  and  embittered. 
She  had  never  been  affected  by  the  pangs  she  had 
awakened,  nor  paused  to  think  that  there  could  be  any 
wrong  in  using  whatever  presented  itself  to  her  — 
never  before.  But  to-night,  alone,  facing  her  first  de- 
feat, revolted  and  stricken,  she  felt  guilty  —  horribly 
guilty;  and  as  her  faith  was  simple,  and  God  had  al- 
ways appeared  to  her  as  a  good  friend,  she  sought  His 
reasons  in  her  past,  and  said  to  herself: 

"  Yes;  that  is  why  it  has  come  —  that  is  why  I  am 
punished !  Oh,  I  must  be  very  wicked !  " 

In  this  conviction,  her  offending  seemed  to  her 
enormous,  unending.  From  the  day  of  her  arrival  in 
New  York  until  now,  she  felt  that  she  had  never  been 
anything  but  selfish,  cruel,  mercenary  and  calculating. 
No!  Certainly  she  had  not  scrupled  to  use  men  .  .  . 


THE  SALAMANDER  201 

and  what  men  she  had  known,  had  availed  herself 
of,  climbed  above,  and  discarded.  Now  the  smoke 
wreaths  of  her  progress  swirled  more  rapidly,  thickly 
revolving,  mounting  more  slowly.  She  had  found  her 
dinners  in  humble  restaurants,  paid  for  in  half-dollars 
by  young  men  already  pinched  in  the  struggle  of  sal- 
aries, young  men  in  whom  that  spark  of  hope  of  which 
Harrigan  Blood  had  spoken  burned  heedlessly  — 
dreaming  a  miraculous  future  and  the  winning  of  an- 
other Helen.  Next  it  was  the  coarse  world  of  the  the- 
ater and  the  restaurants  —  heavy  sated  types  of  men, 
demanding  their  brutal  pay,  men  who  disgusted  her, 
with  whom  she  could  not  share  the  same  air,  danger- 
ous antagonists.  Another  swirl,  another  chance  oppor- 
tunity, and  she  was  out  of  the  contagion,  unscotched, 
meeting  at  last  men  of  good  manners,  gentlemen  in 
name  and  often  in  heart.  What  an  incredible  prog- 
ress it  had  been !  She  saw  few  faces  distinctly,  but  in 
the  covetous,  brutal,  chivalrous,  or  adoring  crowd  she 
remembered  here  and  there  a  look,  a  word,  something 
that  had  struck  her  by  its  ridicule,  by  its  cruelty,  or  in- 
clined her  to  a  sudden-  gentleness. 

She,  too  —  how  she  had  changed  through  all  this! 
How  ridiculous  had  been  her  early  admirations,  how 
childish  her  ambitions!  What  a  change  had  come 
within  —  an  education  of  all  her  tastes,  a  desire  for 
the  beautiful,  a  longing  for  refinement,  a  need  of 
distinction  to  respond  to  her  abiding  sense  of  delicacy. 

Yes;  to  acquire  all  this  she  had  done  much  harm, 
inflicted  useless  pain  on  many.  But  now  retribution 
had  come,  inexorable.  That  she  had  never  thought  of 


202  THE  SALAMANDER 

—  that  she  too  could  suffer.     And  she  did  suffer,  ab- 
jectly,   hopelessly,    sitting  there   pressed    against    the 
window-frame,  staring  at  the  unseen  wall  across  which 
the  figures  of  the  past  went  swirling  down  in  long  re- 
volving spirals,   like   the  slow   undulating   swirls   of 
smoke.     There  was  no  way  out.     She  would  never 
see  him  again  —  he  would  never  seek  her.     She  was 
accursed,  punished  for  all  past  wickedness,  singled  out 
for  tragedy  by  fate. 

What  now  could  become  of  her.  What  could  she 
fall  back  on?  Who  could  help  her?  She  was  horri- 
bly alone  —  and  afraid. 

That  night  she  dreamed  a  terrible  dream.  She 
was  dining  at  Tenafly's  in  the  midst  of  a  great  com- 
pany. Massingale  was  there.  By  some  strange  turn, 
Mrs.  Massingale  did  not  exist;  instead,  it  seemed  to 
her  that  he  was  bending  over  her  saying : 

"  It's  all  a  mistake.  I'm  not  married ;  I've  never 
been  married.  That  was  my  brother's  wife.  You 
are  to  be  Mrs.  Massingale.  Do  you  understand? 
That's  why  every  one  is  here ! " 

She  had  looked  around  and  seen  so  many  faces: 
Sassoon,  with  his  mounting  mustache;  Mrs.  Sassoon, 
judging  her  through  a  lorgnette;  Lindaberry,  De 
Joncy,  Mr.  P'eavey,  who  was  wiping  his  eyes  with  a 
handkerchief,  Busby,  Stacey  even. 

All  at  once  some  one  was  standing  at  her  side, — 
some  one  who  wore  patent  leathers  with  chamois  tops, 

—  and  Josh  Nebbins,  in  a  purple  shirt  and  green  and 


THE  SALAMANDER  203 

black  check  suit,  derby  on  one  side,  was  grinning  at 
her,  saying: 

"  Hello,  kid !  Here  I  am.  Made  my  wad.  Come 
to  get  you !  " 

Next  she  was  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  Some  one 
had  his  arms  about  her,  holding  her  back,  and  some 
one  else  was  trying  to  pull  her  over. 

She  was  crying: 

"  Don't  let  him  throw  me  over.  Don't,  please !  I'll 
love  you,  only  you,  Your  Honor ! " 

But,  to  her  surprise,  it  was  not  Massingale  who  was 
trying  to  save  her ;  it  was  Lindaberry. 

And  the  man  who  had  her  by  the  arm,  pulling  her 
over,  she  could  not  see;  only  she  could  see  far  down, 
hundreds  of  miles,  to  a  little  thread  of  a  stream. 
Stones  were  slipping  under  her  feet;  she  was  going 
over;  and  all  at  once  she  looked  up.  A  pair  of  patent 
leathers  with  chamois  tops !  It  was  Josh  Nebbins. 

She  awoke  with  a  scream. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  next  morning  she  resolved  to  go  at  once  to 
Blainey,  to  fling  herself  heart  and  soul  into  her 
profession,  to  get  an  engagement  in  some  stock  com- 
pany. She  hesitated,  and  ended  by  putting  it  off  till 
the  next  day.  She  said  to  herself  that  she  must  seek 
relief  in  flight,  a  new  life,  new  friends  for  a  month  at 
least,  until  she  should  be  stronger.  She  said  it  to  her- 
self each  day,  and  each  day  she  tarried.  Perhaps  she 
hoped  for  some  sign  of  weakness  on  Massingale's 
part,  an  overture  that  would  give  her  the  confidence  of 
a  scornful  rejection.  But  each  day  passed  without 
word  or  sign  from  him.  This  firmness,  this  regained 
control,  this  one  man  who  could  steadfastly  avoid  her, 
obsessed  her.  She  sought  not  to  think  of  him  —  and 
his  image  intruded  itself  every  day,  at  every  moment. 
When  the  telephone  rang  its  always  mysterious  call, 
she  went  to  it  with  a  tense  arrestation  of  her  nerves 
expectant  of  his  voice,  fearing  —  hoping.  At  the  the- 
ater or  the  opera,  in  her  first  sweeping  glance  over  the 
audience,  it  was  always  his  face  she  sought.  She 
sought  it  in  the  chances  of  the  crowded  streets,  and 
with  a  restless  glance  searched  among  the  carriages 
as  she  passed  alone,  or  in  gay  company,  up  the  avenue. 
She  knew  where  he  held  court,  following  the  calendar 
in  the  newspaper,  and  often  she  was  tempted  to  steal 

204 


THE  SALAMANDER  205 

in  at  the  back  of  the  dim,  crowded  court  room,  unob- 
served—  just  why,  with  what  undefined  hope,  she  did 
not  know.  This  impulse  she  resisted  but  never  con- 
fidently conquered.  Each  day  she  repeated  that  she 
must  go;  each  day  she  tarried. 

For  two  weeks  she  led  a  dulled  and  purposeless  ex- 
istence. She  succeeded  in  crowding  the  day,  in  shut- 
ting out  opportunity  for  thought,  in  consuming  the 
night  so  as  to  return  with  enough  fatigue  to  fall  into 
heavy  troubled  slumber.  The  bright  moments  were 
those  when  she  went  with  Snyder's  little  girl  on  brief 
excursions  into  the  country,  for  a  moment's  forgetful- 
ness  among  the  woods,  an  hour  of  willing  slavery  to 
childish  whims,  throwing  herself  into  foolish  romping 
games  that  brought  a  comforting  sense  of  the  world's 
unrealities.  The  sensation  that  childish  clinging 
brought  her  at  times  surprised  her  by  its  intensity. 
She  had  never  thought  of  having  children,  and  yet  this 
child  awoke  strange  yearnings.  Troubled,  she  told 
herself  that  it  was  the  weakness  of  her  suffering  inten- 
sified by  loneliness,  and  satisfied  herself  with  this  reply. 

Her  days  were  curiously  divided.  She  saw  Harri- 
gan  Blood  and  Sassoon,  but  to  their  assiduous  pursuit 
she  flung  only  crumbs.  She  saw  them  in  the  tantaliz- 
ing publicity  of  the  down-stairs  parlor  —  rarely,  for  an 
hour  perhaps ;  but  she  steadfastly  refused  further  con- 
cessions. Busby,  clearly  inspired,  sought  to  entice  her 
to  many  alluring  entertainments,  some  conventional, 
others  not  quite  so.  She  refused  all.  She  avoided  all 
parties  where  she  might  encounter  the  one  man,  avoid- 
ing too  that  entourage  of  his  which  she  had  so  eagerly 


206  THE  SALAMANDER 

sought  with  a  sense  of  right  on  the  occasion  of  the 
luncheon  to  De  Joncy. 

Instead,  she  sought  desperately  to  return  to  the 
light  bantering  existence  she  had  formerly  known. 
The  glimpses  she  had  had  into  the  upper  world  fright- 
ened her.  It  laid  before  her  crude  vanities  which  she 
would  have  preferred  to  ignore ;  it  started  temptations 
where  she  had  been  conscious  of  none.  In  her  present 
depression,  an  instinct  bade  her  flee  all  that  dazzled 
her ;  a  voice  whispered  to  her  that,  in  the  mad  impulses 
of  a  groping  despair,  she  might  not  always  resist,  or 
care  to  resist  —  that  it  were  better  not  to  know  that 
luxury  and  power  lay  so  easily  at  hand,  ready  on  the 
feminine  fingers  of  Sassoon  or  the  imperious  clutch  of 
Harrigan  Blood. 

Nor  was  the  temptation  a  fancied  one,  for  the  hun- 
ger that  had  awakened  was  an  inner  one.  In  her  short 
glimpse  of  luxury  she  had  become  aware  of  new  long- 
ings, material  cravings,  vanities  of  the  flesh.  Occa- 
sionally in  the  mornings,  to  escape  from  her  moods, 
she  went  out  for  long  walks  past  tempting  shop-win- 
dows —  those  shop-windows  of  New  York,  more  dev- 
astating than  all  the  flesh  hunters,  on  whose  balances 
lie  how  many  feminine  souls !  She  would  stop  breath- 
lessly, hypnotized,  hanging  on  visions  of  gorgeous 
silks,  imperial  furs,  opera-cloaks  that  might  transform 
a  peasant  into  a  queen,  jewels  that  danced  before  her 
eyes,  fascinating  them  strangely  with  their  serpentine 
coldness. 

She  could  not  prevent  her  lawless  imagination  from 
wandering,  visualizing  another  Dore  Baxter,  who 


THE  SALAMANDER  207 

swept  gorgeously  among  the  costly  women  of  the 
opera  and  the  restaurants,  compelling  a  startled  atten- 
tion, luxuriant,  radiant,  triumphant  with  the  sinister 
blinking  eyes  of  Sassoon  always  over  her  glowing 
shoulder.  What  constantly  started  this  torturing 
image  before  her  was  that  she  had  now  no  doubt  as  to 
what  she  could  do  with  him.  At  first,  incredulously, 
she  could  not  believe  that  his  interest  would  survive  a 
week  —  that  he  would  not  depart  furiously,  once  the 
scales  had  fallen  from  his  hungry  glance  and  he  had 
realized  that  in  her  mocking  society  nothing  was  re- 
served for  him  but  humiliation  and  deception.  But,  to 
her  amazement,  she  found  it  was  not  so ;  that  something 
had  penetrated  profoundly  into  that  chilled  soul,  and 
that  the  passion  which  had  been  kindled  was  one  that 
sweeps  men  on  to  irretrievable  follies,  unthinkable  sac- 
rifices, at  the  hands  of  a  calm  woman.  Sassoon  —  no. 
But  Sassoon  and  the  lure  of  a  thousand  shop-windows 
spreading  before  her  their  soft  enwrapping  mysteries 
of  splendor.  .  .  .  Occasionally,  gazing  entranced  be- 
fore some  bewildering  evening  gown,  a  peignoir  all 
lace  and  cloud,  a  rope  of  milky  pearls,  she  felt  this 
sensation  so  compellingly  that  she  would  retreat 
breathlessly,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

What  made  the  temptation  doubly  insidious  was  her 
own  awakened  point  of  view.  She  saw  now  the  im- 
mense difference  in  scale  between  the  upper  world 
and  the  semi-Bohemian  state  of  the  Salamanders. 
Their  desperate  struggle  to  make  both  ends  meet,  their 
prodigies  of  imaginative  planning,  their  campaigns  of 
economy,  all  to  procure  a  few  insignificant  dollars  — 


208  THE  SALAMANDER 

this  struggle  of  wits  which  had  once  exhilarated  her 
now  depressed  her  fearfully.  She  had  a  sort  of  sec- 
ond sight;  she  saw  now  the  approach  of  failure,  the 
inexorable  famine  that  lay  beyond  the  short  dominion 
of  youth.  She  had  always  dimly  perceived  this  dan- 
ger, saying  to  herself  that  she  could  cast  the  die  be- 
fore another  cast  it  for  her.  But  now,  thinking  of  her 
twenty-third  year  still  six  months  away,  she  had  a 
feeling  as  if  she  were  being  hurried  toward  her  choice, 
frantically  driven ;  and  yet,  she  could  not  see  where  all 
this  whirlwind  force  was  carrying  her. 

At  this  moment  her  mentality  began.  She  felt  a 
new  birth  of  her  reason  —  that  unquiet  searching  of 
the  self  so  often  child  of  grief.  She  began  to  question 
—  to  analyze  and  to  strive  to  penetrate  the  future. 
She  saw  herself  in  others,  the  past  and  the  possible 
future :  Ida  Summers,  arriving  like  a  skipping  child, 
all  heedless  laughter,  inconscient,  holding  out  avid 
arms  for  flowers,  and  Winona,  a  figure  with  half 
averted  face,  hand  upon  the  latch,  ready  to  depart. 
No,  she  would  not  be  like  Winona;  that  was  impossi- 
ble, she  said,  with  a  shudder;  Winona  was  but  a  fig- 
ure standing  as  a  warning! 

Winona  herself,  occupied  with  rehearsals,  went  out 
of  her  day,  momentarily.  Dore  took  her  to  the  opera 
on  the  Monday  nights  that  Mr.  Peavey  had  placed  at 
her  disposal.  She  never  made  the  mistake  of  seeking 
a  male  escort.  She  felt  always  that  Peavey's  timid 
eyes  were  on  her,  hidden  somewhere  in  that  vast  con- 
course, spying  on  her  actions,  waiting  suspiciously  to 
see  if  her  companion  were  a  man,  a  young  and  ardent 


THE  SALAMANDER  209 

man  of  her  own  generation.  Nor  was  this  entirely 
surmise.  The  second  Monday,  he  had  loomed  at  her 
side  out  of  nowhere,  happiness  in  his  eyes,  radiant  to 
find  her  so  discreetly  accompanied.  He  had  taken 
them  to  supper  afterward.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Wi- 
nona  had  put  herself  out  to  attract  him  —  excessively 
so,  considering  her  proprietorship ;  for  the  etiquette  of 
Salamanders  is  imperious  on  such  points.  But  then, 
Winona  was  in  a  curious  mood,  brooding,  gay  by 
starts  and  as  suddenly  silent.  Dore  sometimes  won- 
dered if  things  were  working  out  well  at  the  theater. 
In  her  determination  to  resist  this  life  —  Massin- 
gale's  world,  into  which  she  had  blundered  so  unluck- 
ily —  she  turned  hungrily  to  the  company  of  the  other 
Salamanders,  with  a  new  need  of  woman's  sympathy 
and  understanding.  Besides  Winona  and  Ida,  there 
were  on  the  floor  below  Estelle  Monks,  whom  she 
knew  well  and  Clarice  Stuart  and  Anita  Morgan,  room- 
mates, whom  she  knew  slightly,  despite  their  repeated 
advances.  They  were  trained  nurses,  lately  arrived 
from  the  far  West,  older  than  the  rest,  but  Salaman- 
ders by  their  craving  for  excitement  and  their  fidelity 
to  the  rule  of  never  allowing  business  to  interfere  with 
pleasure.  Dore  had  always  had  that  curiosity  which 
each  Salamander  feels  for  another.  How  did  they 
play  their  games?  Had  they  methods  which  she  had 
not  divined  ?  Above  all,  what  was  to  be  the  end  of  the 
comedy?  Readily  welcomed,  she  drifted  into  their 
society  for  a  week  or  so.  They  engaged  themselves 
only  for  the  day,  and  yet,  despite  the  exacting  strain 
they  underwent  (and,  to  her  surprise,  she  soon  discov- 


210  THE  SALAMANDER 

ered  that  they  were  passionately  devoted  to  their  pro- 
fession), each  night  by  half  past  seven  they  came  trip- 
ping down  the  steps  to  where  Dore,  with  the  escorts, 
was  waiting  in  an  automobile  to  whirl  them  to  the 
theater,  to  a  long  drive  into  the  country,  dinner  and 
an  impromptu  dance,  and  then  home  by  the  midnight 
stars,  ready  to  rise  with  the  dawn  and  begin  the  day's 
toil.  They  seemed  made  of  iron. 

They  had  their  stories  to  tell,  their  analyses  of  men 
and  life.  Doctors,  it  seemed,  were  sometimes  human, 
especially  old  ones.  Often  they  had  in  the  party  men 
whose  names  were  famous  in  the  profession,  abrupt 
incisive  tyrants,  neither  abrupt  nor  tyrannical  with 
them,  submitting  to  their  banter,  prodigal  of  compli- 
ments, just  as  difficult  to  be  kept  in  place  as  other  men. 
Dore  listened  in  astonishment  to  their  conversations, 
amazed  at  the  impertinence  of  the  girls,  and  the  ready 
laughing  acceptance  of  those  who,  in  the  day,  com- 
manded them. 

"Why?"  said  Clarice  Stuart,  when  she  had  once 
voiced  this  amazement.  "  Putting  a  different  coat  on 
them  isn't  going  to  change  them,  is  it?  Lud 
bless  you,  girl,  I  thought  the  way  you  did, 
once.  I  got  over  it  quickly!  Do  you  want  to  know 
my  first  experience  here,  when  I  got  to  New 
York?  An  eye-opener,  let  me  tell  you!  I  was  sub- 
stitute on  a  surgical  case, —  private  house,  patient 
sleeping  under  opiates, —  when  Doctor  Outerwaite, 
the  same  we  were  with  the  other  night  up  at  the  Arena, 
came  in  for  examination.  'Course,  in  that  case,  the 
family  always  go  out  of  the  room  until  the  examina- 


THE  SALAMANDER  211 

tion  is  over.  Outervvaite!  Lord,  we'd  heard  nothing 
but  Outerwaite  all  through  the  West!  I  was  fright- 
ened stiff!  They  say  he's  a  devil  in  the  operating- 
room,  swearing  like  a  trooper  if  everything  doesn't  go 
like  clockwork!  Imagine  me!  First  case  in  little 
New  York!  Well,  I  shooed  the  family  out,  closed 
the  doors  and  stood  at  the  patient's  side  —  he  quite 
out  of  his  head,  delirium  and  opiates;  me  watching  the 
Doc,  and  ready  to  jump  at  a  sneeze.  And  what  do 
you  think  he  did?  Go  to  the  patient?  Nixie!  He 
came  straight  up  to  little  me,  slipped  his  arm  around, 
and  said : 

"'Why,  you  beautiful  creature!  where  did  you 
come  from  ?  ' : 

She  laughed  in  a  superior  worldly  way,  adding : 

"  They're  not  all  that  way ;  but  there  are  some  gay 
boys!  Lord!  I  could  tell  you  some  story!  I  say, 
Dodo,  if  you  ever  get  appendicitis,  let  me  know.  I'll 
fix  it  for  you  so  it  won't  cost  you  a  cent !  " 

So  even  distinguished  surgeons,  men  of  interna- 
tional reputation,  had  their  little  excursions  behind  the 
scenes,  vulnerable  as  the  rest  before  an  impertinent, 
defiant  Salamander!  Curious,  she  asked  questions, 
seeking  to  know  how  such  wardrobes  grew  from  mod- 
est salaries.  Clarice  was  nothing  if  not  direct. 

"Graft!"  she  said,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 
"  Of  course,  the  wages  are  good,  but  they  don't  set 
up  a  wardrobe  of  Paris  models,  do  they?  Well,  it's 
a  question  of  presents,  see  ?  "  She  laughed,  shrug- 
ging her  shoulders.  "  A  patient  you've  pulled  through 
pneumonia,  or  a  case  of  trepanning,  has  a  right  to 


212  THE  SALAMANDER 

periodic  fits  of  gratitude,  hasn't  he?  And,  of  course, 
when  you  leave  there's  always  a  present  —  money,  if 
you're  supporting  the  family  at  home."  She  empha- 
sized this  with  a  wink.  "  When  you  get  a  club  man, 
a  good  sport  who's  been  in  a  blue  funk  at  dying,  it 
shapes  up  pretty  well!  Of  course,  wrhen  you  strike  a 
woman,  it's  a  scarf  or  a  kimono.  But  \ve've  been 
rather  lucky !  " 

Then,  become  suddenly  serious,  she  continued 
thoughtfully : 

"  I  say,  Dodo,  it's  real  curious,  the  effect  you  get 
over  a  man  when  he's  pulling  out  of  a  smashing  ill' 
ness!  You  know,  if  I'd  wanted  to  I  could  have  mar- 
ried — "  She  stopped,  lost  in  a  reverie.  "  A  nice 
boy,  too.  Sometimes  I  think  I  was  a  fool !  " 

"  Will  you  marry?  "  said  Dodo  curiously. 

"  Anita  says  she  will.  Don't  know  about  little  me. 
I'm  engaged,  you  know."  She  held  up  two  fingers 
and  laughed:  "But,  lord!  there's  no  hurry.  It's 
such  fun  as  it  is ! " 

As  she  grew  more  confidential  (and  secrecy  was  not 
her  failing),  Do  re  herself  was  surprised  at  the  daring 
of  the  nurse's  life.  She  spoke  lightly  of  things  that 
Dore  did  not  approve  of  —  now.  She  had  met  men  in 
unconventional  ways,  without  introduction,  accord- 
ing to  a  fancy  —  the  expression  is  "  picked  up." 
When  Dore  demurred,  she  said,  with  western  frank- 
ness: 

"  Say,  how  would  I  meet  them,  then  ?  Oh,  I  man- 
age them  all  right  —  after !  That's  where  their  little 
surprise  comes  in !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  213 

And  she  began  to  tell  of  the  time  when  she  had 
flirted  with  two  well-known  club  men  at  the  Horse 
Show,  men  who  were  dying  to  speak  to  her,  but  were 
afraid  on  account  of  the  presence  of  curious  others. 
But,  in  passing  near  them,  they  had  slipped  their  cards 
into  her  pocket.  Of  course,  she  had  not  written  them 
—  she  had  met  them  by  chance  afterward  at  a  restau- 
rant ;  but  she  had  not  been  offended  by  their  advance. 
They  were  of  her  steady  acquaintance  now. 

But  Dore's  incursion  into  this  curious  society 
brought  her  small  amusement.  She  grew  tired 
quickly  of  these  too  easily  read  admirers.  Then  after 
what  she  had  known,  they  were  all  second-chop.  The 
company  of  Estelle  Monks  interested  her  more.  Since 
the  morning  she  had  surprised  her  in  the  office  of  the 
Free  Press,  her  curiosity  had  been  stirred  to  further 
investigation.  Estelle  Monks  herself  forestalled  her. 
She  came  into  her  rooms  suddenly  one  morning,  and 
plumping  down,  abruptly  inquired: 

"  Do  me  a  favor,  Dodo  ?  " 

"Any!" 

"  Don't  mention  to  Mr.  Harrigan  Blood  that  I  in- 
habit these  quarters ! " 

Dore,  puzzled,  a  little  embarrassed  too,  moved  away, 
saying : 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?    Why  not  ?  " 

".No  offense  to  you,  bless  you!  "  said  Estelle  Monks, 
with  a  curious  smile.  "  You  see,  I'm  on  the  paper. 
He  —  well,  he  wouldn't  quite  relish  the  idea  of  trip- 
ping over  me  when  he  turns  up  with  a  bunch  of  flow- 
ers." 


214  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  You  exaggerate,"  said  Dore  nervously.  "  Harri- 
gan  Blood's  not  really  interested." 

"  H.  B.'s  a  damned  fascinating  man,"  said  Estelle 
Monks  directly,  "  but  he  doesn't  like  reporters  about, 
whether  he's  serious  or  not  —  particularly  his  own  re- 
porters." 

"  He's  not  serious !  "  said  Dore. 

Estelle  Monks  smiled. 

"  That  is,  he  only  thinks  he  is." 

"  I  guess  you  understand  him,  don't  you  ?  "  said  Es- 
telle Monks,  still  smiling. 

"  Yes ! "  She  looked  at  her  friend,  interested. 
"  What  are  you  doing  on  the  paper  ?  You  never  told 
any  one." 

"  Raise  your  hand  and  cross  your  heart !  "  said  Es- 
telle solemnly.  "  I'm  Ferdie  Amsterdam." 

"  You?  "  said  Dore  in  amazement.  For  under  that 
pseudonym  was  conducted  the  famous  society  column 
of  the  Free  Press. 

"  Expert  on  the  Four  Hundred  —  social  diction- 
ary." 

"Honest?" 

"  Since  two  months !  " 

"  But  how  do  you  manage  ?  " 

She  told  her  story.  She  had  come  from  San  Fran- 
cisco, where  she  had  done  some  clever  work  on  the  pa- 
pers. She  had  a  few  letters  of  introduction,  and,  she 
knew  a  few  men  of  the  journalist  emigration.  She 
had  gone  to  the  Free  Press  office  with  an  article  in 
hand,  Impressions,  of  a  Western  Girl. 


THE  SALAMANDER  215 

"  What,  it  was  you  ?  "  said  Dore,  suddenly  enlight- 
ened. 

"  Don't  wonder  you  didn't  recognize  the  photo. 
Belonged  to  some  one  on  the  coast.  Wrote  my  article 
in  Chicago  —  fake,  of  course,  but  highly  seasoned.  I 
handed  it  over  as  if  I  owned  a  Middle  West  chain  of 
papers ;  told  them  I'd  go  out  and  work  up  the  names. 
But  the  feeling  was  all  right,  so  it  was!  The  stuff 
went  big ;  I  was  fixed !  " 

Dore  was  on  the  point  of  divulging  her  own  ex- 
perience, and  how  she  had  been  outstripped;  but  she 
held  her  tongue  with  a  new  caution,  asking: 

"  But  the  society  game,  Estelle  — •  how  do  you  know 
about  that  ?  " 

"I  don't!"  she  answered  frankly.  "It  started  as 
a  joke;  it  made  good!  The  real  Ferdie  Amsterdam 
—  that's  to  say,  the  last  of  the  line,  an  old  maid  called 
Benticker  —  got  a  pain  somewhere  and  was  carted  off 
to  the  hospital.  I  was  put  on  the  column  and  told  to 
fill  it  up  somehow.  I  sent  in  a  hurry  call  to  a  couple 
of  my  friends,  Ben  Brown  and  Will  Cutter  —  you 
know  them,  big  magazine  specialists  —  and  we  sat 
down  with  a  couple  of  weeklies,  and  doped  out  a  crack- 
er-jack story.  It  amused  them.  They  used  to  laugh 
themselves  sick  over  being  Ferdie  Amsterdam.  Since 
then  we  lunch  at  Lazare's  every  day  and  dope  it  out. 
And  say,  the  boss  is  so  tickled,  he's  raised  my  rates! 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  'Course,  now  I'm  getting 
the  jargon,  going  out  and  meeting  people  — " 

"  Going  out?  "  said  Dore,  opening  her  eyes. 


216  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Some !  Ferdie  Amsterdam  gets  a  bid  to  any  big 
affair  that's  pulled  off.  Say,  the  way  these  leaders  of 
society  currycomb  your  back  would  paralyze  you! 
Trouble  to  get  information?  Why,  they're  dying  to 
crowd  into  print !  " 

"  And  so  that's  the  way  you  worked  it,"  said  D'ore 
musingly. 

"  Sure.  Drop  in  to  lunch  with  me  and  see  the  board 
in  session !  " 

Dore  liked  Estelle  Monks.  There  was  something 
self-reliant  and  businesslike  about  her  that  inspired 
confidence.  She  had  a  big  point  of  view,  one  who 
had  unbounded  charity  and  understanding.  She  in- 
vited Dore  to  go  with  her  as  her  guest  to  several  af- 
fairs, musicales,  large  balls  and  tableaux,  but  the  in- 
vitation was  always  declined.  As  she  knew  her, 
though,  Dore  was  surprised  to  find  how  naturally  this 
confident  little  worker,  with  the  slow  and  alluring 
smile,  gathered  about  her  men  from  the  most  fashion- 
able sets,  men  whom  she  converted  into  friends,  firm 
in  their  respect.  She  admired  this  gift,  knowing  how 
much  more  difficult  it  is  to  establish  a  friendship 
than  to  begin  a  flirtation. 

She  went  once  or  twice  to  luncheon  with  her, 
amused  at  the  facile  clever  way  Estelle  Monks  en- 
listed the  services  of  two  such  celebrities  as  Ben  Brown 
and  Will  Cutter,  and  that  in  friendship  solely.  It 
must  be  a  gift  —  a  gift  that  was  not  in  Dore's  power. 
Even  on  the  few  occasions  she  met  them,  Will  Cutter 
looked  at  her  with  awakened  fixity,  very  different 
from  the  way  he  beamed  jovially  on  Estelle  Monks. 


THE  SALAMANDER  217 

A  smile,  and  Dore  felt  he  would  enlist  under  her  ban- 
ner. But  she  steadfastly  resisted  this  disloyalty;  for 
among  Salamanders  etiquette  is  strict,  and  possession 
is  all  points  of  the  law. 

For  three  weeks,  then,  she  sought  to  immerse  her- 
self in  this  old  life  —  sharing  the  surface  confidences 
of  the  Salamanders,  playing  her  part  in  little  financial 
intrigues,  running  into  pawn-shops  with  Winona,  or 
making  profitable  arrangements  at  Pouffe's  for  the 
crediting  on  flowers  withheld  for  Ida  Summers,  who 
was  new;  working  up  the  birthday  game  for  Clarice 
and  Anita,  when  consulted  by  admirers  as  to  what 
would  please  these  difficult  ladies;  raising  her  own 
capital  by  the  reselling  of  the  bi-weekly  basket  of  cham- 
pagne from  Peavey,  the  flowers  that  Stacey,  Gilday 
and  Sassoon  assiduously  offered,  receiving  her  share 
of  convertible  presents  from  chance  admirers,  hooked 
for  a  week  or  two  —  at  the  bottom  without  zest,  sick 
at  heart,  tired  of  it  all.  Then,  all  at  once,  one  morn- 
ing after  she  had  gone  to  the  door  of  the  court-house 
where  Massingale  was  holding  court,  in  a  sudden  re- 
vulsion she  fled  to  Blainey's  office,  wildly  resolved  on 
escape. 

Two  days  later  she  found  herself  in  Buffalo,  in- 
scribed on  the  list  of  a  stock  company,  resolved  to 
stay  for  months  until  her  mental  balance  had  been  re- 
gained and  the  deep  wound  in  her  heart  had  become 
but  a  faint  scar.  She  stayed  just  two  weeks.  The 
quiet,  the  relaxed  air,  life  in  so  many  ruts  of  the  little 
big  town,  awoke  in  her  a  fear  of  the  past,  of  being 
sucked  back  into  the  oblivion  of  early  days,  as  if  what 


218  THE  SALAMANDER 

she  feared  night  and  day  had  already  begun  —  retro- 
gression. Was  that  the  true  reason  of  her  return,  or 
was  there  some  impelling  magnet  too  compelling  to  be 
resisted,  or  even  to  be  acknowledged  ? 

She  came  directly  into  Blainey's  office,  profiting  by 
her  entree  which  carried  her  triumphantly  past  the 
crowded  anteroom,  where  old  and  young,  the  hopeful 
and  the  resigned,  the  restlessly  impatient  and  the  sod- 
denly  passive,  waited  wearily,  watching  her  with  hos- 
tile eyes. 

"  Well,  Blainey,  I'm  back ! "  she  said  abruptly,  and 
nodding  at  the  dapper  secretary,  she  added :  "  Send 
him  out !  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Well,  kid  ?  "  he  said,  studying  her  shrewdly  when 
they  were  alone. 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  be  square  with  you!  "  she  said, 
crossing  her  arms  defiantly.  "  I'm  miserable, 
Blainey!" 

"  Trouble  here  ?  "  he  said,  laying  a  fat  forefinger 
on  his  heart. 

"  Yes." 

"  Em  — •  bad !  "  he  said  solemnly.  He  flung  away 
the  half  smoked  cigar,  chose  another  and  nervously 
turned  it  in  his  fingers.  "  So  I'd  sized  it  up  —  well, 
we  all  get  it.  Why?  Lord  love  me,  of  all  I've 
watched  and  stirred  up,  that's  what  gets  me  —  why  a 
damned  clever  girl  like  you,  or  a  cold-headed  old  son- 
of-a-gun  like  me  should  ever  fall  —  I'm  sorry,  kid ! 
Are  you  going  to  make  a  fool  of  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Blainey,"  she  said,  shrugging  her 


THE  SALAMANDER  219 

shoulders.     She  had  a  feeling,  all  at  once,  of  confi- 
dence in  his  rough  common  sense. 

"  That's  queer.  I  thought  you  were  too  keen ! " 
He  was  thinking  of  Sassoon,  wondering  if  she  would 
throw  away  such  an  opportunity  for  a  short  romance. 
"  Some  youngster,  eh  ?  —  without  a  cent  —  talking 

big!" 

He  lighted  the  cigar  and  puffed  it  reflectively. 

"  Kid,  we  Americans  are  a  bunch  of  damned  fools. 
Sentiment's  our  middle  name!  Why  should  I  hand 
you  a  line  of  talk?  Haven't  I  fallen  for  it  a  dozen 
times  ?  Yes,  and  ready  to  begin  all  over  again ! 
We've  got  to  love  some  one,  or  we  get  to  wabbling !  " 

He  looked  at  her,  and  again  he  thought  of  Sassoon, 
and  what  the  situation  might  yield.  He  wanted  to  be 
honest  with  her,  to  give  her  good  advice  according  to 
his  lights. 

"  So  that's  why  you  shot  off  to  Buffalo,  eh  ?  "  he 
said,  with  a  long  whistle.  "  Bad  theory !  Stay  by  it ; 
see  the  fellow  ten  times  a  day  —  that  sometimes  cures. 
Say,  I'm  going  to  hand  you  the  truth  like  a  Dutch  un- 
cle! You've  got  things  going  your  way;  you've  got 
the  whole  game  before  you,  cinched."  He  hesitated. 
"  Sassoon,  ready  to  back  you  to  the  limit,  opportunity, 
money  backing;  you  know  the  place."  .  .  .  He  waved 
contemptuously  at  the  warring  world  of  the  Rialto 
below  — "  And  you  know  the  game.  Sassoon's  good 
for  thousands  —  in  your  hands.  And  then,  there's  the 
advertisement!  Don't  lose  your  head  over  a  couple 
of  square  shoulders !  " 


220  THE  SALAMANDER 

She  did  not  set  him  right.  For  her  purposes  she 
preferred  that  he  should  entirely  misconceive  her. 
She  allowed  him  to  go  on,  volunteering  his  worldly, 
well  meant  advice. 

"  All  you  say  is  true,"  she  said  finally,  with  an  in- 
definable smile.  "  Blainey,  I've  always  said  I  would 
make  up  my  mind  at  twenty-three.  Be  patient.  It 
may  be  sooner !  " 

"  Wish  I  could  take  twenty-five  years  off  my  back," 
he  said  slowly,  without  rising.  "  Take  your  time  — 
take  your  time;  and  if  you  get  weepy,  come  in  and 
use  my  shoulder.  Understand  ?  " 

He  rang  the  bell,  waved  his  hand  cheerily  and 
watched  her  until  she  disappeared.  She  went, 
strongly  impressed  by  his  kindness,  half  inclined  im- 
pulsively to  return  and  begin  in  earnest. 

She  had  gone  directly  to  him  from  the  station. 
Now  she  returned  to  Miss  Pirn's.  When  she  was  back 
once  more  in  her  own  room,  the  sensation  of  home- 
coming was  so  acute  that  she  could  have  sat  down  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor  and  cried  for  joy.  But  in 
another  moment  Ida  Summers  rushed  in. 

"  Dodo !  The  Lord  be  praised !  You  saved  my 
lifeJ  Dinner,  theater  and  a  gorgeous  cabaret  affair 
afterwards.  Vaughan  Chandler's  coming  for  me  at 
seven  —  I  promised  to  get  another  girl.  Every  one 
you  know  is  going.  Every  one's  been  asking  for  you. 
Swear  you'll  come?" 

"  Come?  You  bet  I  will!  "  she  cried  with  a  great 
burst  of  relief,  flinging  herself  frantically  in  Ida's 
arms. 


221 

At  eleven  o'clock,  after  dinner  and  the  theater  they 
started  in  a  party  of  six,  hilariously,  for  Healey's, 
where  a  dozen  crowds  were  to  congregate  for  an  im- 
promptu cabaret  dance.  She  felt  elated,  gloriously 
happy.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had  regained  the 
mastery  of  herself  again,  that  the  old  zest  had  returned 
with  the  incipient  flirtation  which  she  had  already  be- 
gun with  two  irreproachable  youths  who  sought  dis- 
creetly to  touch  her  hand  in  the  confusion  of  the  bump- 
ing ride,  or  to  gaze  deep,  with  ardent  soulful  messages, 
into  her  mocking  eyes  of  cloudy  blue.  After  all,  the 
voluntary  exile  had  served  its  purpose.  It  had  showed 
her  the  stupidity  of  moping.  Life  was  too  short  to 
be  taken  seriously.  Admiration  of  ten  men  was  bet- 
ter, more  exhilarating,  more  exciting,  than  ridiculous 
fancied  passions  au  serieux.  She  was  so  happy,  so 
brilliantly  gay,  liberated  in  spirit,  avid  for  excitement 
and  admiration,  that  even  Vaughan  Chandler,  Ida's 
cavalier  by  rights,  watched  her  with  amazed  disloyal 
eyes. 

Others  were  before  them  in  the  great  Jungle  Room 
which  had  been  reserved.  From  below  they  heard  the 
barbaric  swinging  music  of  stringed  instruments,  and 
divined  the  laughing,  swaying,  gliding  confusion  of 
dancers.  Dore,  with  brilliant  eyes  and  impatient 
tripping  feet,  hurried  them  on,  eager  to  lose  herself 
in  the  swirling  throbbing  measures,  and  the  first  two 
persons  she  saw  on  entering,  were  —  Lindaberry  and 
Judge  Massingale! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MASSINGALE  did  not  perceive  her  entrance.  A 
moment  later  she  was  in  the  arms  of  one  of  her 
escorts,  lost  in  the  confusion  of  the  dance.  Whirl- 
ing figures  obscured  her  view.  She  caught  flashes  of 
his  erect  square-shouldered  figure,  glimpses  of  the  high 
forehead  and  stern  gaze,  and  the  next  moment  she 
was  flinging  back  a  laughing  salutation  to  a  suddenly 
appearing  acquaintance  flying  past  her.  Whatever 
happened,  she  would  never  look  in  his  direction;  he 
should  never  know  that  he  existed  for  her !  And  still, 
in  the  kaleidoscopic  hazards  of  the  frantic  measure, 
his  face  was  the  only  fixed  point  which  a  dozen  futile 
shapes  strove  in  vain  to  obscure.  He  had  his  hand 
on  Lindaberry's  shoulder,  bending  over  him  in  ani- 
mated exhortation;  other  men,  three  or  four,  laugh- 
ingly provocative  or  dissuading,  were  in  the  group. 
Then,  all  at  once,  an  abrupt  end,  laughter,  applause, 
a  quick  clearing  of  the  floor,  and  Massingale,  looking 
across  the  room,  saw  her. 

She  had  no  experience  of  the  discipline  of  society; 
she  understood  only  crude  impulses  of  nature;  she 
never  believed  that  he  would  dare  approach  her.  He 
came  directly  to  her,  offered  his  hand  with  perfect 
courtesy,  gave  a  formal  greeting,  bowed  and  left  her 
immediately.  She  was  so  taken  by  surprise  by  the 
ease  with  which  he  had  surmounted  a  difficult  mo- 

222 


THE  SALAMANDER  223 

ment  that  she  suffered  him  to  take  her  hand  and  to 
depart  without  the  slightest  resistance.  But  im- 
mediately afterward  her  anger  flamed  up.  What! 
not  a  word  of  excuse,  not  a  regret,  nothing  but  a  trivial 
evasion!  And  forgetting  all  her  own  resolves,  she 
flung  herself  recklessly  into  the  excitement  of  the 
evening,  recklessly  resolved  to  make  herself  a  thou- 
sand times  more  desirable,  to  outdo  even  the  most  dar- 
ing of  the  dancers,  to  draw  on  herself  every  regard, 
that  he  might  see  to  what  he  had  driven  her.  He 
continued  to  watch  her,  transformed  into  a  spectator, 
arms  folded,  seeing  no  one  else;  and  with  a  keen  cut- 
ting joy  she  saw  the  furrow  of  pain  and  doubt  which 
gathered  across  his  brow,  as  she  abandoned  herself, 
head  thrown  back,  laughing  up  at  her  partner,  as  she 
had  seen  Georgie  Gwynne  once  in  the  embrace  of 
Lindaberry.  The  men,  already  overexcited,  crowded 
about  her,  contending  for  each  dance. 

Now  she  no  longer  avoided  Massingale's  troubled 
gaze.  Each  time  she  passed  near  him,  she  sent  him 
a  scornful  veiled  glance,  a  smile  of  derision  and  reck- 
lessness, which  said :  "  There  —  you  see !  This  is 
what  you  have  done  to  me ;  this  is  where  I  am  going !  " 
A  fury  impelled  her  on;  she  wished  to  drive  him,  at 
all  costs,  from  the  room.  But  still  he  remained  rooted 
by  the  piano,  never  averting  his  eyes.  She  saw  that 
he  suffered,  and  by  every  coqueting  provoking  glance, 
by  every  seductive  movement  of  her  body,  by  the  very 
vertigo  of  her  languorous,  half  closed  eyes  and  parted 
eager  lips,  she  sought  to  bury  deeper  the  sting. 

Lindaberry    sought   her,    among   others,    and    she 


224  THE  SALAMANDER 

danced  with  him  once,  twice,  a  third  time,  granting 
him  that  personal  distinction  which  would  double  the 
pain  she  was  inflicting.  This  evening  Lindaberry  was 
different.  She  felt  in  him  an  agitation  equal  to  her 
own.  He  danced  extraordinarily  well,  with  an  impul- 
sive sense  of  the  alternately  controlled  or  passionately 
rebellious  movements  of  the  dance.  And  the  im- 
pulses within  him  which  subdued  her  movements  to 
his,  fiercely  checking  them  or  suddenly  enveloping  her 
in  a  mad,  surging,  frantic  rush  which  left  her  breath- 
less, was  something  not  of  the  room,  or  the  mechanics 
of  the  step,  but  an  inner  fierce  revolt  that  sought  its 
liberating  expression  in  this  physical  madness.  Even 
in  her  obsession  of  resentment,  she  felt  a  curiosity  to 
know  why  this  was  so.  Other  men  enlightened  her, 
whispering  caution : 

"  For  God's  sake,  Miss  Baxter,  don't  let  him  drink 
any  more ! " 

"  He's  been  on  a  spree  for  a  week !  " 

"  They  say  he  lost  forty  thousand  last  night  at  Can- 
field's." 

She  could  not  believe  it.  His  face  was  so  hilar- 
iously young,  lighted  up  with  such  boyish  laughter. 
To-night  she  had  no  fear  of  him;  if  he  was  reckless, 
so  was  she ! 

"  This  is  nothing !  "  he  had  said  to  her  once,  when 
he  had  driven  her  about  the  room  at  such  a  pace  that 
she  had  halted,  laughing,  protesting  that  it  was  glo- 
rious, waiting  for  breath.  "  How  would  you  like  to 
go  spinning  along  at  eighty  miles  an  hour?  That's 
sensation ! " 


THE  SALAMANDER  225 

She  had  not  understood  his  meaning,  but,  the  idea 
once  in  her  head,  she  returned  to  it.  It  seemed  to 
her  all  at  once  that  in  her  hand  lay  the  final  stroke 
that  would  wound  Massingale  as  nothing  else  would 
wound,  which  would  show  him  how  little  she  cared 
for  anything  now  —  reputation,  danger,  or  what  might 
come  after. 

"  You  like  the  feeling  of  eighty  miles  an  hour  ? " 
she  said  to  Lindaberry,  the  next  time  he  came. 

"Adore  it!" 

"  Is  your  machine  here  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Show  me  what  it  is  like  —  eighty  miles  an  hour!  " 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  " 

"Of  course!" 

"  You've  got  the  nerve  ?  " 

She  laughed;  it  was  not  a  question  of  courage. 

"  Come  on,  then !  "  . 

She  nodded,  and  glanced  about  the  room.  Ida 
Summers  was  at  the  piano,  clamoring  for  a  certain 
dance,  not  five  feet  from  Massingale.  She  went 
quickly,  saying,  in  a  voice  that  would  carry  where  she 
intended : 

"  Ida,  I'm  off  for  a  lark.  Don't  be  worried  if  I 
disappear! " 

"  Heavens,  Dodo,  what  are  you  going  to  do  now?  " 
said  Ida,  looking  up  startled. 

"  Great  fun !  Mr.  Lindaberry's  going  to  show  me 
what  it  feels  like  to  go  a  mile  a  minute  in  the 
dark." 

To  her  surprise,  she  was  instantly  surrounded  by 


226  THE  SALAMANDER 

those  who  had  heard  her  remark  —  a  group  in  violent 
protest. 

"You're  mad!" 

"  Lindaberry'll  wreck  the  car !  " 

"  Don't  you  know  his  condition  ?  " 

"  Miss  Baxter,  it's  suicide !  " 

Massingale  alone  did  not  offer  a  word. 

She  put  them  laughingly  away  with  double-edged 
words : 

"Danger?  So  much  the  better!  What  do  I 
care?" 

But  she  had  considerable  difficulty  in  freeing  her- 
self. When  finally  she  escaped,  laughing,  and  had 
made  for  the  entrance,  Lindaberry,  too,  was  facing  a 
storm  of  protest  from  those  who  had  learned  of  his 
proposed  escapade. 

"  I  say,  Miss  Baxter,  I'm  looked  on  as  a  slaughter- 
house champion  here,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  No  one 
particularly  cares  about  my  neck,  but  a  good  many  do 
about  yours !  What  do  you  say?  Shall  we  give  them 
the  slip?" 

"I'm  ready!" 

"  Can't  we  put  up  a  little  bet  on  this  ?  "  he  continued 
triumphantly.  "  It's  now  ten  minutes  before  one. 
Yonkers  and  back,  despite  cops,  punctures  and  acci- 
dents, in  forty  minutes  I  Who'll  take  me  for  a  hun- 
dred, even  at  that  ?  " 

A  chorus  of  murmurs  alone  answered  him : 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Garry!" 

"Not  I!" 

"  You  ought  to  be  manacled !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  227 

"I'll  make  it  two  to  one  —  five  to  one!"  He 
stopped  expectantly,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned 
to  Dore.  "  Miss  Baxter,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor 
there's  not  the  slightest  risk.  Still,  it's  up  to  you. 
Well?" 

"  I'm  crazy  about  it !  "  she  said,  with  a  reckless 
laugh,  slipping  her  hand  through  his  proffered  arm. 

Below,  she  drew  back  suddenly.  Judge  Massingale 
was  on  the  sidewalk,  standing  by  the  car.  He  turned 
at  once  to  Lindaberry,  looking  steadily  past  her. 

"  Garry,  this  is  sheer  madness !  You  have  no  right 
to  do  what  you're  doing !  Miss  Baxter  does  not  know 
what  she  is  getting  into !  " 

Lindaberry's  only  answer  was  a  boyish  laugh,  and 
a  hand  to  Dore,  who  sprang  to  her  seat. 

"  Risk  your  own  life.  If  you'll  go  alone,  I'll  take 
up  your  bet !  " 

"Listen  to  him,  Miss  Baxter!"  said  Lindaberry, 
with  an  airy  wave  of  his  hand.  "  Why,  upon  my 
honor,  I'm  the  safest  driver  in  New  York!  " 

Massingale  gave  a  groan  of  despair. 

"  Besides,  if  you're  arrested  and  brought  into  court, 
Garry,  Miss  Baxter's  name  will  be  dragged — " 

"  I  won't  be  nabbed.  And,  if  I  am,  Judge,  I'll  tele- 
phone for  you !  Besides,  there  isn't  a  cop  in  the  place 
that  doesn't  love  me  like  a  brother.  Ask  Mulligan, 
here!" 

The  patrolman  on  the  beat,  who  had  lazily  sauntered 
up  at  his  colloquy,  grinned  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Why,  every  time  I  get  in  a  scrap  with  one  of 
them,"  continued  Lindaberry  joyously,  "  I  send  the 


228  THE  SALAMANDER 

kids  to  college!  They'd  break  my  head  open  the  first 
chance  they  got,  but  beyond  that  they  wouldn't  harm 
a  hair.  Eh,  Mulligan  ?  " 

"Sure!     That's  right!" 

Lindaberry,  ready  to  take  the  wheel,  bent  over. 

"I  say,  Mulligan,  is  De  Lima  on  deck  to-night?" 

Mulligan  gazed  anxiously  in  the  direction  of  Judge 
Massingale,  who  was  standing  helplessly  by. 

"  Oh,  the  judge  is  a  good  sport !  "  said  Lindaberry. 
"Well,  where's  De  Lima?" 

"  Above  Ninety-sixth,  I  believe,  sorr !  " 

"  Good !  I'll  keep  an  eye  out.  De  Lima's  ex- 
pensive! Well,  Judge,  too  bad  you  can't  join  us. 
Little  bet?  Now,  don't  worry!  I'll  promise  nothing 
faster  than  a  mile  a  minute  until  we  strike  the  coun- 
try!" 

They  were  drawn  up  in  the  electric  flare  of  the  side 
entrance.  Quite  a  group  of  staring  white-aproned 
waiters,  impudent  newsboys,  appearing  like  bats  out 
of  the  hidden  night,  chauffeurs  and  curious  creatures 
of  the  underworld  hung  around  open-mouthed,  very 
black  and  very  white  in  the  artificial  region  of  light 
and  shadow.  Massingale  turned  suddenly  to  her, 
forced  to  his  last  appeal. 

"  Miss  Baxter,"  he  said,  looking  up  directly,  "  I 
wouldn't  insist  if  I  didn't  know  the  chances  you  are 
running  with  this  madman !  Believe  me,  it  is  a  reck- 
less thing  to  do !  Miss  Baxter,  please  don't  go !  " 

"  Please?  "  she  repeated,  looking  into  his  eyes  with 
a  glance  as  cold  as  his  own  was  excited. 

"  Yes !     I  ask  you  —  I  beg  you  not  to  go !     You 


THE  SALAMANDER  '229 

don't  know  —  you  don't  understand.  Mr.  Linda- 
berry  is  not  a  safe  person  —  now,  under  present  con- 
ditions !  " 

She  leaned  a  little  toward  him,  modulating  her  voice 
for  his  ear  alone. 

"  I'm   sure,    Judge   Massingale,"    she   said    coldly 
"  that   I   will  be  much  safer  with  Mr.   Lindabeny, 
wherever  he  wishes  to  take  me,  than  with  some  other 
man,  even  in  my  own  house,  alone !  " 

He  understood:  she  saw  it  by  the  hurt  look  in  his 
eyes.  He  withdrew  without  further  proffer. 

The  next  instant  the  car  shot  out,  with  the  trailing 
scream  of  a  rocket,  shaved  a  wheel  by  an  inch,  swung 
the  corner  with  hardly  a  break,  the  rear  wheels  slid- 
ing over  the  asphalt,  and  went  streaming  up  the 
avenue,  the  naked  trees  of  the  park  running  at  their 
side. 

She  sank  back  into  the  shaggy  coat,  adjusting  the 
glasses  which  the  wind  cut  sharply  into  her  face,  ap- 
palled at  the  speed,  yet  strangely,  contemptuously  un- 
afraid. 

"  Fast  enough  ?  "  he  cried,  and  the  words  seemed  to 
whistle  by  her. 

"  Love  it !  "  she  shouted,  bending  toward  him. 

She  watched  him,  shrunk  against  the  seat,  her  cu- 
riosity awakening  at  his  mood,  so  married  to  her  own. 
Massingale,  the  dancers,  the  stirring  pain-giving 
world  of  pleasure,  were  miles  away.  She  remembered 
all  at  once  that  she  was  with  him  —  a  stranger,  wild 
as  herself,  heedlessly,  recklessly  engaged  in  a  mad 
thing.  All  at  once  she  laughed  aloud,  a  curious  sound 


230  THE  SALAMANDER 

that  made  him  jerk  his  head  hastily  back.  If  he  knew 
how  little  she  cared  if  the  wheel  swerved  that  neces- 
sary fraction  of  an  inch ! 

"  Crazy !  We're  crazy,  both  of  us !  "  she  thought  to 
herself  joyfully.  At  this  moment  of  wild  cynicism 
she  felt  that  she  had  flung  over  everything,  done  for- 
ever with  scruples;  that,  now  that  she  had  compro- 
mised herself  so  publicly,  nothing  more  mattered. 
She  would  be  cruel,  selfish,  mercenary,  but  she  would 
make  this  city  of  Mammon  that  went  roaring  past  her 
serve  her  by  its  own  false  gods  of  money  and  suc- 
cess. In  the  gathering  roar  of  the  hollow  air,  high 
roof  and  low  roof,  sudden  sparkling  streets,  file  on  file 
of  blinking  lights,  fatally  brilliant  as  the  lure  of  shop 
windows,  black  instantaneous  masses  on  the  avenue, 
streamed  behind  her  in  a  giddy  torrent.  Yes,  it  was 
her  last  scruples  she  thus  flung  to  the  winds,  and  fool- 
ishly confident  of  divining  inscrutable  fates,  she  re- 
peated fiercely,  defiantly,  drunk  with  the  speed  mad- 
ness: 

"  What  do  I  care!     This  is  the  end!  " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"T  TOLD  tight!" 

She  caught  his  shoulder  at  a  sudden  grind- 
ing stop,  a  breakneck  turn  into  a  side  street,  and  the 
released  forward  leap. 

"  Look  out !  Don't  touch  my  arm !  "  he  cried  warn- 
ingly. 

The  next  moment  they  had  leaped  an  intersecting 
avenue,  skirting  the  impending  rush  of  a  trolley  car 
by  inches.  He  laughed  uproariously. 

"Afraid?" 

"No!" 

Another  turn,  and  they  were  on  Riverside,  the  broad 
Hudson  with  its  firefly  lights  below,  the  Palisades  ris- 
ing darkly,  like  gathering  thunder-clouds.  There  was 
no  moon,  but  above  their  heads  were  the  swarming 
stars,  brilliant  as  a  myriad  swo'rd-points.  Once  a 
policeman  rushed  with  a  peremptory  club  in  their 
path,  springing  aside  with  an  oath  as  Lindaberry  set 
the  machine  at  him  —  an  oath  that  was  lost  like  a 
whirling  leaf.  She  no  longer  sought  to  distinguish  the 
giddy  passage  at  her  sides,  straining  her  eyes  on  the 
white  consuming  path  of  the  lanterns,  feeling  all  at 
once  the  hungry  soul  of  the  monster  waking  in  the 
machine,  strident,  throbbing,  crying  out  at  the  un- 
shaken hand  of  man  which  dominated  it.  Then  the 

231 


232  THE  SALAMANDER 

Viaduct  slipped  underneath  them,  and  below,  in  a 
swirling  dip,  the  sunken  city,  hungry  as  a  torrent, 
awaiting  a  single  mishap. 

She  had  a  sudden  remembrance  of  her  dream  —  of 
Nebbins  pulling  her  over  a  brink,  and  the  thread  of  a 
river  grave  miles  below.  Only  now  she  remembered 
coldly,  as  if  the  speed  at  which  they  were  flying  gave 
her  no  time  to  associate  two  ideas.  Suddenly,  by  an 
instinct  not  of  fear  but  of  disdainful  certainty,  her 
eyes  closed  before  the  impossibility  of  surviving  a  loom- 
ing obstacle.  When  she  opened  them  again  they  were 
among  trees  and  fields,  while  the  goaded  machine 
hurled  itself  forward  in  tugging  leaps.  Now,  as  they 
seemed  to  fling  themselves  irrevocably  on  the  destruc- 
tion of  wall  or  upstarting  tree,  she  no  longer  winced 
or  closed  her  eyes,  but  breathlessly  waited  the  sudden 
liberating  touch  of  the  hand,  which  snatched  them 
miraculously  aside  in  the  last  fraction  of  time.  She 
felt  something  that  she  had  never  felt  before  —  an  ap- 
petite and  an  intoxication  in  thus  defrauding  destruc- 
tion; even  her  flesh  responded  with  a  tingling  electric 
glow.  All  at  once  she  perceived  that  he  was  trying 
her  purposely  —  steering  from  right  to  left,  seemingly 
bent  on  a  plunging  end,  trying  to  draw  a  cry  of  fear. 
She  laughed  again  disdainfully,  and  all  at  once  the 
runaway  came  back  into  control,  gliding  into  a  smooth 
easy  flight,  slower  and  slower,  until  it  came  to  a  stop. 

"  By  George !  you  have  nerve !  "  he  said,  turning 
toward  her. 

"  Go  on !     Go  on !  "  she  said  feverishly. 

He  extended  to  her  his  hand,  which  was  trembling. 


THE  SALAMANDER  233 

"  God !  that's  excitement  that's  worth  while ! "  he 
said.  "  A  fight  every  minute.  Ugly  old  brute ! 
Wouldn't  it  like  to  throw  me  just  once?  "  He  put  on 
the  brakes,  drawing  his  sleeve  across  his  forehead, 
which  was  wet  with  perspiration,  taking  a  long  breath. 
"  Each  century  has  its  vice.  By  George,  this  is  ours 
—  speed!  And  it's  got  everything  in  it  —  gamble, 
danger,  intoxication,  all !  Like  it  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

He  remained  silent  a  moment,  as  if  struggling  to 
clear  his  heavy  head  of  befogging  weights.  Then  he 
said  slowly,  a  little  thickly,  curiosity  growing  : 

"Why  the  devil  did  you  do  it?" 

"Do  what?" 

"  Risk  your  neck  with  a  fool  like  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  let's  talk !  "  she  said  nervously.  "  Go 
on!  Fast!" 

"All  right!" 

They  were  off  again,  a  wild  liberating  rush,  and 
then  a  calmer  motion,  a  gliding  ease.  She  felt  in  him 
a  different  mood,  a  mood  that  sought  an  opportunity 
to  put  questions  and  weigh  answers,  and  as  she  felt 
a  desire  to  escape  personalities,  she  said  complain- 
ingly : 

"  But  it's  so  slow  —  so  tame !  Let's  go  on  run- 
ning away !  " 

"  This  is  different,"  he  said,  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand  overhead  at  the  myriad-eyed  night.  "  You  can't 
run  away  from  this!  The  rest  —  houses,  people,  rot- 
ten brutality,  useless  things,  yes;  that's  what  I  like  to 
go  plunging  from  —  to  get  to  this.  I  like  the  feel- 


234  THE  SALAMANDER 

ing  —  solitude.  George !  if  you  could  only  go  steer- 
ing your  way  out  of  all  the  old  into  something  new !  " 
He  repeated  the  phrase  moodily,  as  if  to  himself :  "If 
one  only  could  —  if  it  were  only  possible !  "  Then  he 
broke  off  abruptly,  laughing  to  himself  :  "  You're  too 
young.  You  can't  understand.  Everything  is  new  to 
you.  By  George,  marry  me  and  start  for  Australia, 
or  Timbuctoo,  to-morrow !  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"Look  out!  I  might  accept!"  she  said,  laughing, 
and  yet  understanding. 

"  Every  one  thinks  I'm  a  wild  ass,"  he  said  grimly. 
"  Wish  I  could  do  something  really  wild  —  make  over 
the  world!  Look  here;  are  you  going  to  answer  my 
question?  " 

"What  question?" 

"  Why  in  the  name  of  the  impossible  are  we  here 
to-night?" 

"  I  wonder?  "  she  said,  half  to  herself. 

The  reply  seemed  to  satisfy  him;  he  continued  a 
moment,  absorbed  in  their  smooth  progress.  Insen- 
sibly she  felt  her  mood  yielding  to  his,  no  longer  im- 
patient, vaguely  content,  lulled  into  reverie,  giving 
herself  over  to  a  new  strange  companionable  inclina- 
tion toward  the  man  who  had  revealed  himself,  half 
boy,  half  savage,  in  his  first  unconscious  longings. 

To  escape  from  the  old?  No,  she  did  not  yet  un- 
derstand that;  but  she  did  comprehend  the  all-per- 
vading serenity  of  the  night,  warm  still  with  the  touch 
of  Indian  summer.  The  grating  strident  sounds  of 
the  day  were  gone;  the  whisper  on  the  wind  was  soft 
as  a  lullaby  —  sharp  angles  and  brutally  straight  lines 


THE  SALAMANDER  235 

lost  in  the  feathery  suffusion  that  lay  on  the  fields. 
Ahead,  the  brave  steadfast  rays  of  their  lamps  pierced 
through  sudden  pools  of  darkness,  that  closed  gently 
above  them,  and  gave  way  again  to  clear  visions  of 
stars.  Once  or  twice  she  saw  across  the  enchanted 
blackness  a  distant  trolley,  unheard,  rolling  its  ball  of 
fire  like  the  track  of  a  shooting  star.  Again,  the  far- 
off  leathery  bark  of  a  watch-dog  complaining.  But 
of  man  no  sound.  Only  the  mysterious  shadows  held 
a  spirit  of  life;  only  a  giant  tree,  silhouetted  against 
the  faint  sky,  seemed  to  move  as  they  moved,  racing 
with  them  past  the  vanishing  road  bushes.  A  rabbit, 
started  from  its  security,  horribly  hypnotized  by  this 
chugging,  fiery-eyed  monster,  scurried  foolishly  be- 
fore them.  Once  a  swerving  bat  zigzagged  before  her 
eyes  like  the  cut  of  a  black  whirling  blade.  Even 
these  were  intruders,  out  of  place  in  the  old  world, 
older  than  the  pyramids,  older  than  the  first  stirring 
of  life  —  this  waiting  dominion  of  time,  which  re- 
claimed each  night  the  futile  centuries  of  men,  secure 
of  the  hour  when  all  must  return  in  loyalty  to  its  first 
silence.  She  looked  at  the  stars,  and  the  world  be- 
neath dwindled  into  nothingness,  to  the  span  of  a  hand 
before  these  twinking  immensities.  Which  was  real? 
This  night,  where  only  the  infinite  and  the  inevitable 
reigned,  or  the  day,  with  its  clamoring  intrusion  of 
confusing  and  needless  voices  ? 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  It's  so  strange.  It's  so  long  since  I  remembered. 
I  had  forgot!" 

She  had  forgot,  indeed,  that  world  which  lay  be- 


236  THE  SALAMANDER 

yond  men's  world;  but  she  remembered  it  now  —  the 
strange  night,  which  formerly  in  the  quiet  of  a  child's 
room  came  gently,  like  a  friendly  stream,  across  her 
white  counterpane,  awaking  troubled  questionings,  im- 
possible, terrifying  confrontations  of  the  beyond  and 
the  hereafter.  She  had  feared  these  strange  whys 
and  wherefores  then ;  and  now  they  laid  upon  her  only 
a  great  peace  —  perhaps  because  she  sought  no  answer. 

She  wanted  to  talk  to  him  as  one  could  talk  in  the 
hidden  night,  away  from  foolish  conventions.  What 
did  it  matter  what  they  said  or  did  here  in  this  en- 
gulfing quiet?  Why  should  human  beings  be  con- 
stantly at  war  with  one  another,  stopped  by  vanities? 
She  had  forgot  her  anguish,  in  an  impulse  toward  the 
weakness  in  the  man. 

He  stopped  the  car  and  turned  toward  her. 

"  What's  wrong?     What's  the  trouble?  " 

"  Mine's  nothing !  "  she  said.  "  Let  me  talk  about 
you/' 

But  they  did  not  at  once  begin  —  a  little  at  a  loss. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  she  said  at  last. 

"  Twenty-eight  ages !  " 

"  Is  it  true,  what  they  tell  me?  " 

"  That  I'm  riding  hellbent  to  the  devil?     Correct!  " 

He  did  not  say  it  with  braggadocio,  and  yet  it  seemed 
incongruous,  after  the  glimpse  she  had  had  of  the  man. 

"Why?"  she  said,  laying  her  two  hands  impul- 
sively on  his  arm  and  with  every  instinct  of  her 
feminine  nature  sending  him  a  message  of  sympathy. 

"  It's  such  a  long  story !  "  he  said  slowly.     Then, 


THE  SALAMANDER  237 

with  a  last  return  of  the  Saxon's  fear  of  sentimentality : 
"  If  I  were  sober  I  wouldn't  tell  you!  " 

"You're  not—" 

"  Drunk  ?  Yes !  For  ten  days,"  he  said  — "  in  my 
way!  There's  nothing  to  fear;  never  gets  the  best  of 
me!  When  it  does  —  crack!  It'll  be  over  in  a  sec- 
ond!" 

"  But  why?  "  she  asked  helplessly. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  said  fiercely.  "  All  I  care  about 
is  a  good  fight,  and,  by  George,  it  is  a  fight,  a  real  sen- 
sation. You  can't  understand,  but  it's  so!  To  have 
your  temples  beating  like  trip-hammers,  to  fight  the 
mists  out  of  your  eyes  —  a  great  brute  like  this  whip- 
ping back  and  forth,  shaking  you  off.  One  slip,  a  hun- 
dredth of  a  second,  and  then  to  beat  it  all,  to  master 
it.  God !  it's  gorgeous !  " 

Suddenly,  with  an  attempt  at  evasion,  he  drew  back. 

"  You  know,  I  had  a  mind  once.  I  reason  things 
out  now  —  I  see  straight !  Do  you  know  how  I  figure 
it  out?  This  way!  What  earthly  use  am  I  in  the 
world?  What  earthly  use  is  a  cuss  who  is  given 
forty  thousand  a  year,  without  earning  it,  and  told 
to  amuse  himself?  None!  By  George!  Sometimes 
I  believe  dissipation  is  nature's  way  of  getting  rid  of 
us!  And  she's  right,  too;  the  sooner  it's  over,  the 
more  chance  for  some  one  real  to  come  along ! " 

"  Are  you  serious  ?  " 

He  drew  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  pinching  his 
temples. 

"  Curiously  enough,  I  am !     I'm  quite  hopeless,  and 


238  THE  SALAMANDER 

I  don't  care  in  the  least !     So  don't  let's  waste  time ! " 

He  started  to  crank  the  machine;  but  she  stopped 
him. 

"  There  was  a  woman  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,  but  not  in  the  first  place."  He  turned  to  her, 
puzzled.  "  Why  do  you  want  to  make  me  talk?  " 

"I  don't  know;  I  do!" 

"What's  your  name?" 

She  hesitated. 

"  Dodo." 

"  I  like  that !  "  he  said  reflectively.  "  So  you  are 
really  interested?  And  you  don't  know  our  story? 
Lord !  That's  funny !  I  thought  every  one  knew  the 
story  of  the  Lindaberry  boys!  We  certainly  raised 
enough  Cain!  Do  you  know,  I  really  was  a  damned 
nice  sort  of  kid  —  men  adored  me ! "  He  drew  in 
his  breath  reflectively,  conjuring  up,  with  a  tolerant 
smile,  a  picture  out  of  forgotten  days.  "  Yes,  a  real 
decent  cuss  who'd  have  done  something  if  he'd  had 
half  a  chance!  There's  only  one  thing  I  love  in  this 
world  —  a  fight ;  and  they  took  it  all  away  from  me ! 

"  Do  you  know,  the  finest  days,  the  ripping  ones, 
were  those  back  in  the  old  school,  when  I  used  to  be 
carried  off  the  field  on  the  shoulders  of  a  mob.  That 
was  something  real!  I  loved  it!  We  used  to  sing 
about  shedding  our  blood,  and  all  that  funny  rot,  for 
the  glory  of  the  red  and  black  —  and  I  believed  it, 
too.  Lord  bless  that  queer  cuss.  Good  days !  I  used 
to  play  the  game  like  a  raging  little  devil,  ready  to 
fling  my  life  away!  The  Lindaberry  boys  —  they 
haven't  forgot  us  yet!  It  was  so  at  college,  only 


THE  SALAMANDER  239 

not  quite  the  same.  But  at  school,  four  hundred  fel- 
lows, and  to  be  king!  Ambition?  I  was  chock-full  of 
it  then.  But  they  took  it  away  from  me !  That's  what 
knocked  me  out!  And  who  did  it?  The  one  who 
loved  us  best  —  the  governor! 

"  Out  of  college,  forty  thousand  a  year,  and  told  to 
have  a  good  time!  Put  that  down  for  my  epitaph! 
The  dad,  poor  old  fellow,  didn't  know  any  better! 
He'd  worked  like  a  pirate ;  said  he'd  never  been  young ; 
wanted  us  to  live!  Forty  thousand  a  year  each,  and 
let  her  go!  I  remember  the  day  we  started,  with  a 
whoop!  Wonder  is,  we  lasted  a  year!  Tom,  the 
young  one,  didn't !  " 

"Dead?" 

"  To  the  world,  yes ;  asylum.  Killed  the  governor. 
He  tried  to  stop  us,  but  it  was  too  late!  Now  the 
race  is  between  Jock  and  me.  My  lord,  if  they'd  only 
packed  us  off  —  started  us  in  a  construction  gang, 
anywhere,  temperature  a  hundred  in  the  shade  — 
might  have  owned  a  state  to-day !  Remember  what  I 
said  about  the  feeling  you  get  out  here  alone  —  the 
awaking  into  something  new?  If  Jock  would  go,  I'd 
cut  to-morrow  —  ship  before  the  mast,  and  God  take 
the  rudder!  He  won't.  But,  by  jove,  to  get  into  a 
new  life,  a  new  chance !  You'll  understand  —  or,  no,. 
I  hope  you  never  will !  " 

She  could  see  but  a  faint  blurred  mass  at  her  side. 
Under  the  goblin  shadows  of  autumn  trees,  a  brook 
sunk  in  the  field  told  its  hidden  story  to  piping  crickets 
and  rovers  of  the  night.  She  felt  in  her  a  great  need 
of  compassion,  a  yearning  emptiness  in  her  arms,  a 


240  THE  SALAMANDER 

desire  to  lay  her  comforting  touch  across  his  eyes,  as 
once  she  had  put  into  slumberland  the  tear-stained 
cheeks  of  Snyder's  little  child.  No  other  sentiment 
came  to  mingle  with  this  pure  stream  of  maternal 
longing;  but  all  about  her  and  all  within  her  so  im- 
pelled her  to  follow  the  instinct  of  the  ages  that  she 
drew  back  with  a  sigh. 

"  Here !  Don't  do  that  for  me !  "  he  said,  straight- 
ening up  ashamed. 

She  could  not  tell  him  what  in  her  had  called  forth 
that  sigh,  so  she  said  hurriedly: 

"  No,  no.     Then,  of  course,  there  was  a  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course ! "  he  assented.  He  opened  his 
match-case,  lighted  a  cigarette  and  then  flung  it  away 
nervously.  "  Lord,  but  I  was  a  child  in  those  days. 
I  believed  implicitly!  Women?  A  religion  to  me. 
I  was  ready  to  fall  down  and  worship!  We  were  en- 
gaged —  secret  until  I  had  got  hold  of  myself.  Easy? 
It  was  child's  play!  I  could  have  won  out  in  three 
months.  Then,  quite  by  accident,  I  found  she  was 
playing  the  same  game  with  my  best  friend  —  how 
many  others,  God  knows !  Great  God !  talk  about 
smashing  idols  for  poor  old  heathen  Chinese !  Whew 
—  there  was  nothing  left !  I  didn't  even  see  her. 
Went  off,  crazy  as  a  loon.  A  wild  letter,  and  good-by 
for  a  year.  Bang  around  the  world  to  get  the  poison 
out  of  my  system.  Little  good  it  did,  too!"  He 
stopped,  considered  a  moment,  and  added :  "  Now 
that  I  look  back,  I  think  she  did  care  for  me  —  as 
much  as  she  could  in  her  polygamous  little  soul  —  else 
she  wouldn't  have  done  what  she  did!  When  I  got 


THE  SALAMANDER  241 

back  —  fool  that  I  was  —  I  found  her  Mrs.  Jock 
Lindaberry,  and  the  devil  in  the  saddle !  " 

"  What !  your  own  brother  ?  "  she  said  incredulously. 
"How  did  she  dare?" 

"  You  don't  know  the  lady !  "  he  said,  with  a  laugh. 
"  There's  nothing  in  this  world  she's  afraid  of.  And 

—  God,  how  she  can  hate !     Fine  revenge,  eh  ?  " 
"But  you  didn't  tell—" 

"Jock?  No!  What's  the  use?  We  never  talk 
much  —  and  he  knows!  Then,  there's  a  child,  a  boy 

—  a  Lindaberry ;  and  that  holds  him.     She  was  clever 
enough  for  that !  " 

"You  see  her?" 

"  Never  have  entered  the  house !  " 

"  You  were  very  much  in  love  ?  "  she  asked. 

"At  twenty-three?  Mad,  crazy  in  love!  Ready 
to  take  any  man  by  the  throat  who  dared  insinuate  a 
word!" 

"Aren't  you  over  it  yet?" 

"I?  Yes  and  no.  It  was  Kismet!  If  I'd  been 
lucky  enough,  even  then,  to  have  found  a  woman  who 
cared,  whom  I  could  worship  —  who  knows?  Well! 
the  other  thing  happened !  Kismet !  " 

"  But  there  are  lots  of  women  — " 

"Yes,  of  course!  But  I  —  I've  never  trusted 
since." 

"  You  are  really  a  great  coward,  Mr.  Lindaberry !  " 

She  said  it  impulsively  —  yet,  once  said,  resolved 
to  stand  by  her  guns,  feeling  now  threefold  the 
anger  and  irritation  he  had  awakened  in  her  at  their 
first  meeting. 


242  THE  SALAMANDER 

He  shifted  in  his  seat,  amazed. 

"  You  give  up  at  your  first  defeat  —  let  a  woman 
who  isn't  worth  a  candle  wreck  your  life!  " 

"By  Jove!" 

"Pride?  You  talk  of  pride  and  courage!  You 
haven't  a  drop  of  either,"  she  continued  hotly.  "  So 
you'll  give  her  just  what  she  wants,  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  how  you  cared!  Yes,  what  a  delicious  re- 
venge you  give  her !  I'm  a  woman  —  I  know !  She 
hates  you,  and  she  sits  back  smiling,  waiting  for  the 
end,  saying  to  herself:  'I  did  it!'  No;  I  have  no 
patience  with  such  weakness !  You  are  nothing  but  a 
great  coward !  " 

She  stopped,  surprised  at  a  sob  that  arose,  unbidden, 
in  her  throat.  He  gazed  ahead,  without  answering,  a 
long  while,  his  fingers  playing  on  the  wheel. 

"  That's  rather  rough !  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  You  deserve  every  bit  of  it !  " 

"  To  call  me  a  coward  ?  "  he  said,  with  an  uneasy 
laugh. 

"  A  great  coward !  Oh,  courage !  Easy  enough, 
when  you  know  you've  physical  strength,  to  go  smash- 
ing into  a  weaker  man  —  or  a  dozen !  That's  so  ob- 
vious, so  easy.  But  when  something  difficult  comes 
up-" 

He  swore  impatiently  to  himself. 

"  Yes,  something  difficult.  When  the  odds  are  all 
against  you,  you  give  up  —  do  just  what  a  cold-blooded 
little  vixen  wants  of  you.  Why?  Because  you  have 
no  pride !  "  she  cried  heatedly.  "  Don't  talk  to  me  of 


THE  SALAMANDER  243 

courage!  I  have  a  thousand  times  more  than  you,  to 
come  to-night ! " 

"  By  jove !  You're  right ! "  he  said,  folding  his 
arms.  "  Hold  up,  now ;  that's  enough.  You've 
reached  me.  Don't  say  any  more !  " 

She  began  to  feel  sorry  for  the  way  she  had  attacked 
him,  feeling  his  utter  loneliness.  Finally  he  ceased 
humming  to  himself,  and  turned. 

"You're  an  honest,  brave  little  thing  —  a  child!" 
he  said  slowly.  "  I  don't  know  you  at  all.  Who  are 
you  ?  What  are  you  ?  I've  only  met  you  at  a  couple 
of  rowdy  parties,  and  yet  you  talk  this  way !  Are  you 
straight?" 

"Mr.  Lindaberry!" 

"  I  mean  no  offense  —  I  wouldn't  care.  You're 
genuine,  that's  the  thing!  I'm  your  friend,  proud  to 
be !  Tell  me  about  yourself !  " 

She  saw  that  social  judgments  meant  nothing  to 
him;  in  fact,  she  was  rather  touched  by  the  thought 
that,  even  if  she  had  not  been  what  he  called 
"  straight,"  he  would  have  given  her  a  loyal  respect. 

"  Me?  "  she  said  dreamily.  "  I  don't  know  what  to 
tell  you!  I  come  from  nothing  —  a  little  town  way 
out  in  Ohio.  Never  had  a  home  —  sort  of  turned 
over  to  an  aunt  and  uncle.  I've  shifted  for  myself, 
but  I've  never  lost  my  nerve.  I  was  bound  to  get  into 
a  bigger  life,  to  do  something  —  if  only  to  be  free,  to 
live!  I've  done  a  lot  of  foolish  things,  I  suppose,  be- 
cause I'm  a  little  crazy  myself  —  can't  resist  excite- 
ment!" 


244  THE  SALAMANDER 

"You  shouldn't  have  gone  to  that  party  at  Sas- 
soon's,"  he  said.  "  You  are  too  innocent  to  under- 
stand what  it  meant !  " 

"  I'm  not  living  in  a  sheltered  house !  "  she  pro- 
tested. "  I'm  hurting  no  one.  I  face  the  world  by 
myself,  stand  on  my  own  feet,  and  I  can  take  care  of 
myself.  I'm  not  ignorant !  " 

"  Yes,  you  are.  You  can't  know.  You  think  you 
can,  but  you  can't  know !  No  girl  can,  until  —  until 
she's  caught ! "  He  looked  at  her  steadily.  "  You 
know,  at  bottom  you  are  a  child.  That's  the  danger! 
What  the  devil  sent  you  out  here  to-night?  " 

"  A  good  angel,  perhaps,"  she  said  evasively. 

He  laughed  obstinately,  but  with  less  resistance. 

"  No,  that  isn't  it ! "  she  said  impulsively.  "  I  am 
in  a  reckless  mood  myself.  I  am  hurt  —  oh,  so  hurt! 
Disappointed  in  a  man.  You  see,  we  are  comrades,  in 
a  way! " 

"  Good  God !  Who  could  have  hurt  you !  "  he  said 
roughly. 

"  It  was  all  a  mistake ;  it  wasn't  meant,  perhaps,  but 
that  doesn't  help  much !  " 

He  reached  out  his  hand  and  laid  it  comfortingly 
over  her  shoulder,  surprising  her  with  the  tenderness 
in  his  touch  and  in  his  voice. 

"  Sorry !  I  know.  Queer,  isn't  it  ?  We  are  sort 
of  in  the  same  boat!  Queer  world!  Who'd  have 
thought  we'd  ended  up  this  way?  Funny!  You  start 
up  some  of  the  old  thoughts  in  me.  I  could  have 
done  something  once,  if  I'd  only  had  to!  But  I  be- 


THE  SALAMANDER  243 

long  to  a  cursed  second  generation.  We  Americans 
weren't  meant  to  be  loafers !  " 

"  Why  are  you,  then  ? "  she  said  impulsively. 
"  Listen !  I  was  hard  on  you  when  I  went  for  you 
a  moment  ago!  Mr.  Lindaberry,  we  are  in  the  same 
boat.  Let  me  help  you  —  see  what  I  can  do!  No, 
wait !  I'm  speaking  what  I  feel !  I've  been  cruel  my- 
self, very  cruel  — " 

"Don't  believe  it!" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  have ;  I've  made  others  suffer !  " 

"  Then  it  was  their  fault !  "  he  said  obstinately. 

"  It  would  mean,  just  now,  a  lot  to  me  to  count  for 
something,"  she  rushed  on.  "  I  can't  tell  you  all  the 
reasons  —  I  don't  know  all  —  but  I  believe  what  I  feel 
here  to-night  is  the  best  in  me.  There  is  something 
in  all  this;  I  know  there's  some  reason,  back  of  it  all, 
why  we  have  been  sent  here.  Oh,  Mr.  Lindaberry, 
do  let  me  help!  " 

"  Save  me  ?  "  he  asked,  with  an  ugly  laugh. 

"  Yes,  save  you !  " 

A  long  silence,  in  which  she  watched  him  breath- 
lessly, hoping  for  an  answer. 

"  Fight  it  out!  "  she  insisted. 

He  turned  suddenly,  wondering  if  she  knew  how 
felicitous  had  been  her  appeal. 

"  Why,  Dodo,  I'm  pretty  far  gone! "  he  said  sadly. 

"Coward!" 

"  No,  by  God !  "  he  said  fiercely. 

"  Let  me  see  you  fight,  then !  " 

"What  for?" 


246  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  For  your  own  self-respect !  See  here,  Mr.  Linda- 
berry,  fight  it  out  for  the  love  of  a  good  fight,  and 
let  me  be  in  it.  Let  me  help !  " 

"You  mean  it?"  he  said  slowly;  then  he  nodded 
toward  all  that  surrounded  them.  "  This,  you  know, 
gets  us  —  sentimental !  " 

"No;  I  want  it!" 

He  laughed  in  his  characteristic  way  as  he  did  when 
he  sought  more  reflection. 

"  The  bets  at  the  club  are  two  to  one  against  my 
lasting  the  year,  Dodo !  " 

"Then  take  up  the  bet!" 

"  Why,  that's  an  idea ! "  he  said,  with  a  chuckle. 

He  considered  more  profoundly,  his  arm  still  on 
her  shoulder;  but  there  was  in  it  no  acquiring  touch, 
only  a  clinging  —  the  clinging  of  a  weak  hand  groping 
for  companionship. 

"  I  suppose  I'm  a  lonely  cuss  at  bottom,"  he  said 
slowly,  nor  did  she  follow  his  thought. 

"  Anything  I  can  do  I'll  do,"  she  urged.  "  It'll  be 
my  fight  too !  Come  to  me,  call  me  night  or  day,  when 
you  need  me  —  when  things  are  getting  too  much  for 
you !  I'll  come  any  time !  " 

"You  can't!" 

"  I  can !  "  she  cried  defiantly.  "  What  do  I  care 
what  is  said,  if  I  know  and  you  know  that  all  is  right ! 
Thank  God,  I'm  alone!  I  have  no,  one  to  whom  it 
matters  what  the  world  says.  I'm  only  a  waif,  a 
drifter!" 

"  Drifters  both !  "  he  said  solemnly. 


THE  SALAMANDER  247 

She  stopped  a  moment,  struck  by  the  idea,  feeling 
their  mutual  clinging,  and  the  incomprehensible,  un- 
seen winds  of  the  night  sweeping  about  them  and 
carrying  them  —  whither  ? 

"  Listen ! "  she  added  hurriedly.  "  This  is  my 
promise.  Fight  it  out,  and  I  will  help  you  by  every- 
thing that's  in  me!  No  matter  whom  I'm  with  or 
where  I'm  going,  I'll  turn  over  everything,  when  you 
need  me,  and  come ! " 

"Even  nights  like  this?"  he  said.  "For  that's 
when  it'll  be  the  hardest !  " 

"  Especially  nights  like  this ! "  she  cried,  opening 
her  arms  with  a  feeling  of  glorification. 

"  Tell  me  something,"  he  said  slowly ;  "  and  be  hon- 
est with  me ! " 

"  I  swear  I  always  will,"  she  said  impulsively  from 
her  heart,  devoutly  believing  it. 

"  Are  you  in  love  now  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"Are  you  sure?" 

His  arm,  as  if  suddenly  aware  of  her  body,  re- 
moved itself.  He  bent  toward  her,  striving  to  see  her 
face. 

An  instant  before,  she  had  sworn  to  herself,  swiftly, 
in  the  exultation  of  a  new-born  spiritual  self,  that  to 
this  man,  at  least,  she  would  never  lie ;  and  all  at  once, 
by  the  divining  charity  of  her  woman's  soul,  bent  on 
saving  him,  she  began  her  first  deception! 

"  No ;  I  am  not  —  sure !  " 

She  had  a  quick  fear  that  he  would  spoil  everything 


248  THE  SALAMANDER' 

by  an  overt  movement,  and  shrank  from  him,  con- 
scious of  the  male  and  of  her  sex.  But  at  the  end 
he  rose  quietly,  saying: 

"  All  right,  Dodo.     The  fight's  begun !  " 

If  there  were  a  double  meaning  in  his  words,  he 
gave  no  sign  of  it.  He  went  to  the  front  and  cranked 
the  car,  then  drew  the  rug  about  her  with  solicitous 
deference,  that  had  in  it  a  new  attitude.  He  did  not 
even  offer  his  hand  to  seal  the  compact,  and  for  that, 
too,  she  was  profoundly  thankful,  watching  him  with 
slanted  approving  glances. 

"Whatever  he  does  he  will  do  magnificently!"  she 
thought. 

"Comfy?"  he  asked  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"Yes!" 

They  shot  out  into  the  white  road.  He  did  not  ask 
her  wish,  but,  as  if  sure  of  her  acquiescence,  went  fly- 
ing into  the  country,  at  times  with  magnificent  ease, 
at  others  with  wild  bursts  of  speed,  break-a-neck, 
the  monster  obeying  the  fierce  exultant  moods  of  the 
master.  She  lay  back  in  the  seat,  her  eyes  on  the 
jagged  tree-line,  where  broken  shadows  spun  past  her, 
and  the  stars  swam  overhead.  She  felt  his  mood  in 
every  glide,  in  every  resentful  bound,  knowing  what 
was  in  his  spirit,  uplifted  into  a  new  manifestation, 
resolved,  whatever  happened,  that  to  this  one,  at  least, 
she  would  give  the  divine  that  was  in  her. 

It  was  three  o'clock  by  the  paling  of  the  dawn  in 
the  east,  and  the  slinking  scavengers  in  the  streets, 
when  they  returned. 

She  fell  almost  instantly  to  sleep,  for  the  first  time 


THE  SALAMANDER  249 

in  long  weeks.  And  as  she  tucked  her  hand  under  her 
cheek  contentedly,  in  perfect  peace,  she  had  a  satis- 
fied feeling  that  God,  her  inscrutable  friend,  had  not 
been  so  angry  with  her  as  she  had  believed;  that  in 
the  moment  of  her  failing  He  had  shown  her  this 
way  out.  She  did  not  question  her  feelings  toward 
this  new  man.  Pity?  Yes,  a  great  compassion,  a 
tenderness  and  a  sure  belief  in  his  protection,  all  were 
confusedly  in  her  mind ;  but  above  all  a  great  fatigue, 
and  a  wonder  how  the  night  would  remain  in  the  beat- 
ing clarity  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HER  first  waking  thought  was  not  of  Lindaberry, 
but  of  Massingale.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  be- 
side her,  his  restraining  touch  on  her  arm,  trouble  in 
his  eyes,  as  on  the  night  before  when  he  had  pleaded 
with  her  under  the  hissing  arc-lights  and  the  back- 
ground of  curious  creatures  of  the  dark.  Instead,  it 
was  Ida  Summers,  curled  on  the  bed,  who  was  tickling 
her  arm  with  a  feather,  crying: 

"  Wake  up,  lazy-bones !  " 

Dore  comprehended,  even  in  her  foggy  state,  that 
if  such  a  reproach  could  come  from  Ida  Summers,  it 
must  be  very  late  indeed !  She  shot  a  hasty  glance  at 
the  tower  clock;  it  was  nearing  twelve. 

"  Any  broken  bones  ?  What  happened  ?  You're  a 
nice  one !  Why  didn't  you  come  back  ?  Don't  lecture 
me  any  more !  "  continued  Ida,  in  rapid  fire,  and  em- 
phasizing her  remarks  by  pinching  the  toes  under  the 
covers.  "  Poor  Harry  Benson !  pining  away,  one  eye 
on  the  door  and  one  on  the  clock!  Which  reminds 
me  —  he's  coming  for  lunch." 

Harry  Benson  had  been  the  youngest  and  most  sus- 
ceptible of  Dore's  abandoned  escorts. 

"  Oh,  is  that  his  name  ?  " 

"  Heartless  creature ! "  continued  Ida,  rolling  her 
eyes.  "  Three  automobiles,  shover,  father  a  patent- 

250 


THE  SALAMANDER  251 

medicine  king.  I  might  have  married  him,  Do,  if  you 
hadn't  popped  up !  However,  this  is  my  business  day ; 
I  forgot.  How'm  I  going  to  get  hold  of  Zip  ?  " 

"  So  that's  the  game  ? "  said  Dore,  laughing  for 
reasons  that  will  appear.  "  Be  careful  how  you  do  it, 
though;  Mr.  Benson  strikes  me  as  a  very  rapid  ad- 
vancer ! " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Pussy,"  exclaimed  Ida,  laughing ;  "  ^ou 
give  very  good  advice  —  in  the  morning.  However, 
I  just  must  have  a  fur  muff  I  saw  yesterday,  and  that's 
all  there  is  to  it !  Also-,  my  room's  too  small  for  vis- 
itors, so  get  up  and  dress,  as  I'm  going  to  receive  him 
here.  What's  Zip's  telephone?  " 

"  You'll  find  it  on  the  pad,"  said  Dore,  rising  pre- 
cipitately. 

"  Good,  the  bait's  planted,"  said  Ida,  presently  reap- 
pearing. "  I  told  Zip  to  be  most  expensive;  Benson's 
a  fierce  spender! " 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  A  girl  friend  of  mine,"  said  Ida  evasively. 

"  What's  become  of  that  little  fellow  you  annexed 
at  the  Free  Press?  " 

"  Tony  Rex?  Bothers  the  life  out  of  me.  Got  it 
bad !  Sighs  and  poetry.  Jealous  as  a  Turk!  Doesn't 
want  me  to  pose  —  wants  to  shut  me  up  in  a  convent. 
Lord !  I  don't  know  how  to  shake  him !  " 

"  I  thought  him  rather  insignificant,"  said  Dore,  at 
the  dressing-table. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort ! "  said  Ida  vigorously. 
"  Every  one  says  he's  a  coming  man  —  ideas,  humor, 
massive  brain,  you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 


252  THE  SALAMANDER 

Only  —  only,  he  gets  in  the  way  all  the  time  —  trip 
over  him.  Well,  are  you  going  to  give  an  account 
of  yourself  last  night?  Say,  what  a  shame  it  is  some 
squillionaire  doesn't  endow  us!  It's  such  a  nuisance 
getting  your  clothes !  "  As  she  forgot  a  question  as 
soon  as  she  asked  it,  she  was  off  on  a  digression.  "  I 
say,  Dodo,  it's  a  marvel  how  some  girls  do  manage! 
You  remember  Adele  Vickers,  who's  in  light  opera  ?  " 

"  Chorus,"  corrected  Dore. 

"  Same  thing  for  the  Johnnies  —  only  more  so ! 
Say,  you'll  die  when  you  hear  this !  I  was  up  in  her 
hotel,  calling,  a  couple  of  nights  ago,  just  before  din- 
ner, when  one  of  them  married  T-Willys  blows  in,  with 
a  how-can-you-resist-me-little-girl  look.  You  know 
him  —  Penniston  Schwartz,  money-bags  in  something, 
death  on  manicures.  Are  you  listening?  " 

"  Go  on.  .  .  ." 

"  Del  had  no  dinner  in  sight,  so  she  winked  at  me 
to  stick  close,  and  waited  for  a  bid,  one  eye  on  the 
clock.  The  old  beau  —  he  oils  his  mustache  and  looks 
at  you  with  buttery  eyes  —  kept  telling  us  we  were 
breaking  up  his  happy  home  with  our  Resplendent 
beauty,  and  a  lot  of  fluff  that  was  quite  beyond  the 
point,  for  Del  was  fidgeting,  getting  ready  to  assist, 
when  the  hope  of  the  evening  says : 

" '  Awful  sorry  I  can't  take  you  little  rosebuds  out 
to  dinner, —  family,  the  dear  family,  you  know,—  but 
call  up  a  waiter  and  let  me  order.' 

"Order?  You  should  have  seen  what  Del  con- 
cocted! There  wasn't  a  dollar-mark  got  by  her!  It 
must  have  footed  twenty  plunks,  at  the  least !  'Course 


THE  SALAMANDER  253 

she  thought  he'd  pay  at  the  desk  —  naturally!  That 
was  the  awful  slip!  No  sooner  had  the  waiter  disap- 
peared than  he  takes  a  fifty-dollar  bill  from  his  purse, 
flips  it  on  the  table,  and  says,  with  a  wink : 

"  *  The  change's  for  the  waiter  —  of  course ! ' 

"  I  thought  I'd  die  choking,  watching  Adele,  star- 
ing from  the  bill  to  the  clock,  aching  for  him  to  go, 
but  quiet  as  a  mouse  —  oh,  perfect  manner,  crochet- 
ing away  at  a  dinky  tie  until  I  thought  the  needles 
would  fly  in  pieces !  When  the  family  man  got  up  to 
go,  say !  you  should  see  her  bounce  him  out  of  the  door 
and  leap  to  the  telephone,  crying: 

"  *  Make  that  a  veal  chop  and  mashed ! ' 

"  Too  late  ?  "  said  Dore,  laughing. 

"  Well,  we  lost  as  far  as  the  first  entree ;  but,  as  Del 
said,  the  next  time  such  a  thing  occurs,  there'll  be  a 
wise  waiter  on  the  other  end  of  the  line!  Where's 
Snyder?" 

"  They  opened  in  Atlantic  City  last  week ;  expect 
to  return  Monday." 

"  They  say  she's  got  a  big  hit !     Glad  of  it !  " 

"  So  what's-his-name  —  your  cartoonist  —  doesn't 
approve?"  said  Dore,  smiling. 

"  He's  a  perfect  pest.  Furious  at  Vaughan 
Chandler  and  that  crowd.  Lectures  me  from  morn- 
ing to  night  —  heavens !  " 

"What's  wrong?" 

"  He's  coming  around  for  me  at  one.  He'll  be  wild 
if  he  sees  Benson!  Lord!  Dodo,  what  shall  I 
do?" 

"  Leave  word  you're  out  with  Josephus !  " 


254  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  That  won't  stop  him ! "  said  Ida  scornfully. 
"  He's  liable  to  go  to  sleep  on  the  door-step !  " 

"Leave  him  to  me,  then,"  said  Dodo,  with  the 
facility  of  long  practise.  "  I'll  receive  him  while  you 
two  vamose." 

"  I  say,  Do,"  said  Ida,  with  sudden  gratitude,  "  I 
owe  you  a  pointer."  She  went  on  tiptoe  to  the  door 
of  Winona's  room,  listened  a  moment,  and  returning 
stealthily,  held  up  crossed  fingers.  "  Don't  trust 
her!" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Trespassing  —  examine  your  fences  —  all  I  can 
say ! "  exclaimed  Ida,  who  fled  laughing,  not  to  be 
cross-questioned. 

Half  an  hour  later  there  was  being  played  one  of 
those  little  scenes  so  familiar  in  Salamanderland,  the 
secret  of  which  may  bring  enlightenment  to  several 
fatuous  self-made  young  men  of  the  world.  Mr. 
Harry  Benson,  a  young  gentleman  of  great  future  in- 
telligence, now  extremely  avid  of  all  the  mysteries  of 
a  puzzling  strata  of  the  feminine  world,  was  strutting 
contentedly  in  the  presence  of  Miss  Ida  Summers  and 
Miss  Dore  Baxter,  the  actress,  friend  of  such  howling 
swells  as  Judge  Massingale  and  Garret  Lindaberry. 
The  two  girls,  with  a  perfect  sense  of  values,  were 
listening  with  accented  indifference  to  his  flow  of  self- 
exposition,  which  consisted  in  a  narration  of  how 
many  bottles  he  had  consumed  two  nights  before,  how 
much  money  he  had  won  at  bridge,  what  he  had  paid 
for  his  socks,  his  cravats  and  the  silk  shirts  which  bore 
his  initials,  when  there  came  a  slight  deferential  scrap- 


THE  SALAMANDER  255 

ing  at  the  door,  and  at  a  quick  summons,  the  figure 
of  a  diminutive  Jewish  pedler  appeared,  doubled 
under  a  pack,  bowing  convulsively,  wreathed  in  smiles. 
He  had  been  christened  "  Zip,"  a  contraction  of  some 
unpronounceable  name,  and  his  motto  was  :  "  Zip  buys 
or  sells  anythings !  "  He  was  a  general  intermediary 
for  the  Salamanders,  disposing  of  every  conceivable 
article  when  money  had  to  be  raised;  and  as  he  en- 
joyed this  confidential  intimacy  with  lively  and  pretty 
girls,  he  contented  himself,  good-humoredly,  with  no 
more  than  two  hundred  per  cent,  profit. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  Zip,"  cried  Ida  instantly.  "  It's  no 
use  —  come  around  some  other  day!  " 

"  Brought  der  shtockings,"  said  Zip,  in  an  untrans- 
latable accent. 

"  No  money  —  I'm  broke  to-day !     Next  week." 

"  I  trust  you !  "  said  the  pedler,  advancing  benignly, 
perfect  comedian  that  he  was,  by  a  hundred  such  per- 
formances. 

"  No,  no!  "  said  Ida  firmly.  "  That's  not  my  way! 
No  bills;  cash  only!  " 

Mr.  Harry  Benson,  who  had  been  on  the  point  of 
indiscreetly  offering  a  loan,  bit  his  tongue,  thoroughly 
convinced  by  her  manner. 

"  Oh,  now,  Mees  Sumpers,  beezness  is  beezness  — 
ain't  it  right  ?  I  trust  you !  "  said  Zip,  turning  to  one 
and  the  other  with  a  look  of  the  greatest  dejection. 

"  Next  week  —  next  week." 

Zip,  during  this  preliminary  canter,  had  slipped  his 
pack  to  the  ground  and  was  uncovering  the  tarpaulin. 

"  Bretty  laties  must  have  bretty  tings ;  yot  ?    All 


256  THE  SALAMANDER 

silk!  Barkain!  De  most  vonderful  lincherie — •• 
feren  frend  shmuggles  it  through  de  coostom  house. 
Sh'h  dot's  a  secret !  Look  at  dot  hein  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  don't  want  to  see  a  thing.  Don't  tempt 
me!" 

"Mees  Baxter?" 

"Impossible,"  said  Dore,  laughing.  "Bad  month! 
I'm  saving  up  for  Christmas  presents !  " 

"  Veil,  it  don't  cost  nottings  to  look,  eh  ?  "  said  Zip, 
suddenly  bringing  to  light  a  mass  of  pink  and  white 
feminine  lingerie.  "  Eef  it  don't  embarrass  de  shen- 
tlemans  ?  " 

"  Come  on !  Let's  have  a  look  at  them ! "  said 
Harry  Benson,  gorgeously  excited  at  the  idea  of  this 
devilish  pastime. 

The  two  girls  continued  to  protest,  averting  their 
eyes,  while  the  prop,  alternately  eager  and  hesitating, 
afraid  that  too  abrupt  an  offer  would  offend  their  sensi- 
bilities, continued  to  run  through  the  bewildering  array 
of  secret  silks  and  laces.  Perhaps  he  was  decided 
finally  by  an  encouraging  wink  from  Zip,  who  thus 
telegraphed  to  him  that,  being  his  friend,  he  advised 
him  to  dare.  Anyhow,  very  red  and  confused,  he 
blurted  out: 

"  Look  here,  girls,  don't  be  furious  at  me !  Give  me 
this  pleasure,  won't  you?  I've  won  an  awful  lot  at 
bridge  lately.  Let  me  make  a  little  present !  By  jove, 
Ida,  your  birthday's  next  week.  Let  me  beat  all  the 
crowd  to  it.  Vaughan'll  be  furious!  What  a  lark! 
And  you,  Miss  Baxter,  do  have  a  birthday  too,  won't 
you?" 


THE  SALAMANDER  257 

She  laughed. 

"  Mine's  just  passed." 

"Passed?  Then  I  come  in  late.  Bully  for  you! 
It's  a  go,  isn't  it  ?  You're  the  right  sort !  I  can't  tell 
you  how  I  appreciate  it !  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  ought  to,"  said  Ida,  looking  doubt- 
fully at  Dore. 

"  It  is  unusual,  but  I  think  Mr.  Benson  won't  make 
any  mistakes,"  said  Dore,  beaming  on  him  with  a  smile 
of  confidence. 

Benson  shook  her  hand  gratefully. 

Zip  rubbed  his  hands  together  in  delight,  wagging  his 
bearded  head. 

"  Goot,  goot !  Make  de  bretty  kirls  habby, 
eh?  Vat  apout  it,  hein?  Trow  in  de  shtockinks, 
eh?" 

The  two  girls  exclaimed  furiously.  Benson,  laugh- 
ing and  roguish,  defended  the  pedler  from  their 
wrath,  protesting  he  was  loaded  with  money,  crazy  to 
get  rid  of  it,  carrying  his  point  in  the  end.  Zip,  re- 
cipient of  a  hundred-dollar  bill,  departed,  grinning  and 
wagging;  nor  did  Mr.  Benson,  in  the  joyous  delight 
of  this  newly  permitted  intimacy,  for  a  moment  sus- 
pect that  the  silks  and  laces  which  now  lay  so  provok- 
ingly  on  the  table  would  presently  return  to  the  pack 
of  the  histrionic  Zip,  at  forty  per  cent  off  for  commis- 
sion. 

For  the  accuracy  of  historic  customs,  another  detail 
must  be  added.  When  silk  stockings  were  purchased, 
the  color  chosen  was  invariably  pink,  one  pair  of  that 
color  being  in  the  cooperative  possession,  always  at 


'258  THE  SALAMANDER 

hand,  to  be  borrowed  hastily  and  worn  for  a  convinc- 
ing effect  on  the  last  purchaser. 

Ten  minutes  later  Josephus  produced  a  card  which 
Ida,  on  receiving,  said: 

"  How  stupid,  Josephus !  That's  for  Miss  Baxter. 
Come  on,  Harry.  Dodo's  most  particular  and  secre- 
tive —  we  won't  embarrass  her,  will  we  ? "  She 
opened  the  door  of  Winona's  room,  lingering  a  mo- 
ment behind  the  laughing  prop  to  whisper :  "  Tell 
Tony  to  telephone  this  evening.  Say  I've  called  up 
from  a  studio  —  had  to  finish  rush  job  —  awful  sorry ! 
Be  particular ! " 

She  disappeared,  locking  the  door  for  security's 
sake. 

The  next  moment  Mr.  Tony  Rex  entered,  in  evident 
agitation  and  surprise  —  Ida  and  Harry  Benson  slip- 
ping down-stairs  by  the  second  stairway  as  Dore  was 
saying  glibly: 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Rex,  Miss  Summers  has  just  telephoned ! 
She  wants  me  to  tell  you  — " 

But  she  proceeded  no  further.  Mr.  Tony  Rex  wa^ 
watching  her  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 

"  Come  off!  Don't  hand  me  any  useless  fibs,  Miss 
Baxter !  Ida's  here ;  I  took  the  precaution  to  find  out ! 
What's  her  little  game  to-day?"  Suddenly,  as  if 
struck  by  an  idea,  he  moved  to  the  window.  Below, 
Ida  Summers  was  just  springing  to  her  seat  in  the  big 
yellow  automobile. 

Dore  had  no  time  to  prevent  him;  in  fact,  she  had 
momentarily  lost  her  wits.  One  thing  had  startled 
her  on  his  arrival  —  his  shoes  :  patent  leather  with  yel- 


THE  SALAMANDER  259 

low  tops  —  not  chamois,  but  close  enough  to  recall  the 
dreadful  wraith  of  Josh  Nebbins. 

"  So  she's  chucked  me  for  a  stuffed  image  like  Ben- 
son?" he  said  grimly.  "Oh,  I  know  the  owner;  I 
asked  the  chauffeur !  " 

"  What  a  terrible  man !  "  she  thought.  Even  in 
that  he  recalled  that  other  persistent  suitor!  Aloud 
she  said  hastily,  as  he  took  up  his  hat : 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

He  affected  to  misunderstand  the  question. 

"  Look  here,  Miss  Baxter,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  I'm 
dead  serious  in  this!  I'm  going  to  marry  that  little 
kid,  and  it's  going  to  happen  soon!  Likewise,  I'm  a 
wise  one,  and  I  know  just  the  game  she's  playing  — 
and  the  dangers!  Some  of  you  can  keep  your  heads 
—  maybe  you  can  and  maybe  you  can't !  She's  noth- 
ing but  a  babe  —  she  doesn't  know!  That's  why  I'm 
going  to  stop  this  fooling,  P.  D.  Q. ! " 

"  Look  out !  You  can't  drive  a  girl  into  things !  " 
said  Dore. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can!  Watch  me!  "  he  said  confidently. 
"  Now,  I'm  going  to  find  where  they're  lunching,  buy 
up  the  table  next,  and  see  how  jolly  a  little  party  Miss 
Ida'll  have  out  of  it,  with  me  for  an  audience!  Les- 
son number  one !  " 

He  was  off  in  a  rush  before  she  could  recover  from 
her  laughter.  Left  at  last  alone,  she  sought  to  return 
into  herself,  to  adjust  the  Dodo  of  the  day  to  the  sur- 
prising self  of  the  night  before.  It  even  struck  her  as 
incongruous  that,  after  the  depths  she  had  sounded  in 
the  silence  and  loneliness  of  the  world,  she  should  now 


26o  THE  SALAMANDER 

be  forced  to  return  to  the  superficiality  of  banter  and 
petty  intrigue.  Lindaberry  —  she  thought  of  him  as 
of  a  great  wounded  animal  lifting  up  to  her  a  thorn- 
stricken  paw.  He  would  come  for  her  in  a  few  min- 
utes, according  to  agreement,  and  she  half  feared  the 
encounter.  Would  it  be  disillusionment?  Would  all 
that  had  so  enveloped  her  with  the  mystery  and  char- 
ity of  human  relations  now  dissipate  thinly  in  the  com- 
monplace day?  Had  they  been  swayed  simply  by  a 
passing  sentimentality,  as  he  himself  had  feared? 
She  did  not  know  quite  what  she  hoped.  She  did  not 
feel  the  slightest  sentimental  inclination.  She  did  not 
even  attempt  to  dramatize  herself  as  the  good  angel. 
She  had  only  an  immense  curiosity  as  to  herself,  won- 
dering if  she  had  really  discovered  something  new,  if 
in  fact  it  were  possible  for  the  same  Dore,  who  self- 
ishly, in  will-o'-the-wisp  fashion,  enticed  men  on  to 
mock  their  discomfiture,  could  open  up  a  flood  of 
womanly  strength  to  one  who  came  to  her  in  weakness. 

To  return  into  the  exaltation  of  the  night  was  im- 
possible. After  all,  the  day  was  perhaps  more  real 
than  the  moods  of  dreams.  She  looked  on  the  experi- 
ence in  a  comfortable,  satisfied  way,  always  incredu- 
lous of  her  deeper  moods,  inclined  to  shun  them  with 
a  defensive  instinct  that  life  was  safer  when  lived  on 
the  surface. 

But  the  night  which  had  awakened  so  many  dormant 
yearnings  had  brought  back  to  her  again  the  famine 
in  her  own  soul.  Lindaberry  was  yet  confused,  Mas- 
singale  clear  and  insistent.  She  had  arrived,  at  last, 
in  her  tortuous  feminine  logic,  to  the  point  where,  in 


THE  SALAMANDER  '261 

her  longing,  she  was  willing  to  ask  herself  if  there 
were  any  excuse  for  what  he  had  done.  Once  she 
sought  to  excuse  him,  she  found  small  difficulty.  He 
had  been  very  much  of  a  gentleman.  She  had  led  him 
on,  tried  him  beyond  what  was  right;  and,  even  after 
the  explosion,  he  had  recovered  himself,  tried  to  leave 
in  order  to  protect  her.  There  had  been  a  moment 
of  weakness;  but  she  had  wished  for  that  —  yes,  even 
compelled  it.  And  then,  he  cared!  Yes,  that  was  the 
great  thought  that  emerged  from  the  confusion  of  the 
night:  he  cared!  She  knew  it  by  the  wound  she  had 
drawn  across  his  eyes,  by  the  tone  of  his  voice  when 
he  had  pleaded  with  her  at  the  last.  He  cared,  and  he 
suffered  as  she  suffered,  fought  as  she  fought,  to  re- 
main away!  But  he  was  married  —  he  belonged  to 
another  woman! 

Marriage  was  to  her  an  uncomprehended  world,  an 
impasse:  a  man  disappeared  into  it  as  into  a  monas- 
tery. When  she  had  thought  of  marriage,  it  was  al- 
ways as  the  end  of  life,  irrevocable,  and  she  admitted 
it  only  when  some  one  came  so  strong  and  bewilder- 
ing that  nothing  else  mattered.  She  never  had  thought 
of  it  as  an  experiment,  nor  as  something  that  could  be 
rejected  if  found  lacking.  That  man  and  woman,  if 
unsuited,  could  still  be  yoked  together  before  the 
world,  living  each  a  separate  life  in  private,  was  yet 
outside  of  her  analysis  of  human  experience.  There 
was  the  world  of  pleasure,  and  that  world  of  duty  — 
marriage. 

Curiously  enough,  Lindaberry's  story  of  his  own 
deception,  and  the  marriage  of  his  brother  —  the 


262  THE  SALAMANDER 

glimpse  he  had  given  her  behind  the  scenes  of  Mrs. 
Jock  —  had  started  new  questionings.  Who  could 
blame  such  a  husband  for  what  he  did  ?  From  which 
thought  she  proceeded  to  Massingale.  He  did  not  love 
his  wife  —  of  that  she  was  sure.  What  was  the  ar- 
rangement, then  ?  Perhaps  he  too  concealed  his  cares, 
suffering  in  silence.  Even  the  figures  of  the  two  men 
disappeared  before  this  new  obsession.  She  sought  to 
create  before  herself  the  image  of  a  wife  —  of  his 
wife;  for  at  Tenafly's  she  had  not,  in  her  agitation, 
even  turned  to  look.  Sometimes,  with  a  feeling  of 
guilt,  she  perceived  a  weak  creature,  gentle  and  shrink- 
ing, all  tears,  before  whom,  at  the  thought  of  inflicting 
pain,  she  retreated  instinctively.  At  others,  she  saw  a 
woman  in  the  imagined  guise  of  Mrs.  Jock,  vulture- 
like,  scornful,  icy,  narrowed  by  worldly  cravings,  a 
pretty  brute.  Then  she  had  a  feeling  as  if  she  were 
flinging  herself  between  the  two,  husband  and  wife, 
shielding  the  man  from  the  woman. 

"  I  must  see  her!  "  she  said  to  herself  passionately. 
She  thought  of  Estelle  Monks.  She  would  find  some 
way  where,  unknown,  she  would  be  able  to  look  upon 
the  face  of  Mrs.  Massingale.  And,  not  realizing  all 
the  wilderness  that  was  yawning  before  her,  she  re- 
peated :  "  Oh,  yes !  I  must  see  her.  I  shan't  have 
a  moment's  peace  until  I  do !  " 

As  if  any  peace  were  in  store  for  her  —  no  matter 
what  she  found ! 

When  Lindaberry  came  to  take  her  for  lunch  at  a 
quiet  country  inn  somewhere  up  the  Hudson,  she  went 
to  him  without  reserve,  surprised  at  the  strength  of 


THE  SALAMANDER  263 

the  impulses  of  tenderness,  solicitude  and  protection^ 
that  awoke  within  her.  She  had  not  yet  named  to 
herself  the  danger  of  the  first  overt  step  back  to 
Massingale;  perhaps,  though,  she  intuitively  felt  the 
set  of  the  tide  about  her,  and  turned  to  this  better  side 
of  her  nature.  If  what  she  might  soon  do  lay  beyond 
the  permitted,  at  least  this  man,  this  saving  of  a  soul, 
should  be  to  her  credit.  Her  religion  was,  indeed,  of 
the  simplest.  If  God  would  not  approve  of  her  yield- 
ing to  the  yearning  to  see  Massingale  again, —  or  what 
followed, —  at  least  he  would  notice  all  the  good  she 
would  pour  into  the  life  of  Lindaberry.  It  was  a  sort 
of  bargain  which  she  secretly  planned  to  offer :  Linda- 
berry  should  buy  her  forgiveness!  She  felt  glorified 
by  this  thought,  finding  in  herself  depths  of  gentle 
strength  and  maternal  comforting  which  amazed  her. 

"  Are  we  still  dreaming,  Dodo  ? "  he  said  to  her 
suddenly,  when  they  were  free  of  the  city's  clamor. 

She  smiled  appreciatively. 

"  It's  not  a  dream ;  it's  real !  "  she  said  energetically. 

"  You've  taken  up  a  pretty  big  contract,  young 
lady!" 

"And  you?" 

He  thought  a  moment. 

"  And  I.  Five  years  ago  it  would  have  been  like  a 
kitten  toying  with  a  ball.  Now  it's  a  question  of  the 
will  —  and  the  body!  That's  what  we've  got  to  find 
out.  The  body's  a  curious  thing,  Dodo,  and  it  has 
curious  ways  of  going  back  on  you  all  at  once,  with- 
out as  much  as  saying  '  by  your  leave.'  There  was 
a  chap  in  at  Doctor  Lampson's  this  morning  —  chap  I 


264  THE  SALAMANDER 

knew  in  college,  strong  as  a  Hercules,  a  body  just 
glowing  with  strength.  He'll  be  dead  within  the  year 
—  galloping  consumption !  " 

"  You  went  to  a  doctor  ?  " 

"  The  finest.  Wanted  to  get  down  to  facts,  Dodo ; 
find  out  what's  going  on  inside." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  she  asked  breathlessly. 

"  He  said  it  could  be  done !  "  said  Lindaberry  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way.  "We  talked  over  ways.  But 
first,  I  thought  I'd  give  you  another  chance." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Last  night,  out  there  —  stars  and  all  that  — 
wasn't  a  fair  start!  How  do  you  feel  now  with  a 
practical  old  sun  winking  down  at  you  ?  "  he  asked, 
with  a  quizzical  smile  that  did  not  conceal  the  intensity 
of  his  suspended  waiting. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Lindaberry!"  she  said  impulsively. 
"  Do  it  for  your  own  self !  Be  strong !  " 

"No,"  he  said  quietly;  "I  won't  do  it  for  myself. 
I'll  make  the  fight  for  you  —  to  please  you,  Dodo! 
You've  got  hold  of  me  as  no  one  ever  has.  And  then 
you're  not  afraid,  bless  your  childish  eyes !  Well,  am 
I  to  do  it  for  you  ?  " 

She  was  quiet  a  moment,  thrown  out  of  all  her  men- 
tal calculations  by  the  swift  electric  appeal  to  her  emo- 
tional self  that  came  with  his  blunt  declaration.  Men 
had  loved  her  sooner  or  later,  mildly  or  with  infatua- 
tion ;  but  she  had  never  before  felt  so  deeply  what  she 
and  a  divine  hazard  could  mean  in  one  life.  Her  eyes 
filled  with  sudden  tears. 


THE  SALAMANDER  265 

"  Do  it  for  me !  "  she  said  gently,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment her  heart  smote  her  as  if  she  had  been  guilty  of 
a  second  lie. 

"  Now  .is  a  good  date  —  rather  close  to  Thanks- 
giving," he  said,  in  his  chuckling  Anglo-Saxon  way. 
Then  he  laid  one  hand  on  her  arm  and  said  solemnly : 
"  Wrecks  oughtn't  to  get  sentimental.  I  won't!  But 
remember  this,  Dodo:  you're  the  first  breath  of  real 
life  that's  come  to  me.  You've  got  hold  of  me  — 
strong !  I'm  going  to  win  out  for  you  —  and  I'm  go- 
ing— "  He  halted  as  abruptly  as  he  had  begun. 
"Now,  that's  all  till  I  get  straightened  out.  If  I 
don't,  forget  it !  " 

"  But  you  will !  "  she  exclaimed,  forgetting  all  her 
resolves  to  enlighten  him  on  the  subject  of  her  affec- 
tions. 

"  There'll  be  some  bad  bumps,"  he  said  grimly. 
"  I've  got  into  this  night  habit  pretty  deep  —  insomnia, 
and  then  anything  to  eat  up  the  night.  Lampson's 
got  some  new  system  to  try  out  on  me.  Later,  per- 
haps, I'll  beat  it  for  the  woods;  but  just  at  present,  a 
few  weeks,  I  guess  you  can  do  me  more  good  than 
anything  else !  " 

"  Can  I  ?  "  she  said  gratefully. 

"  Yes.  Time  for  lunch  now.  Are  you  starved  ?  " 
he  said  evasively.  "  I'll  talk  over  things  and  ways 
later." 

As  they  came  back,  he  went  into  detail  about  the 
fight  ahead.  Much  that  he  said  was  technical,  and  she 
did  not  comprehend  all.  Only  that  his  body  had  been 


•266  THE  SALAMANDER 

fed  too  long  on  the  consuming  alcohol  to  be  too  sud- 
denly deprived. 

"  Which  means,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  "  that  you 
mustn't  get  discouraged  if  I  break  over  the  traces  once 
or  twice." 

"Send  for  me!" 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said  doubtfully.  "  If  I  do,  you  need 
never  be  afraid,  Dodo,  no  matter  how  much  others 
are.  I  would  always  do  what  you  ask !  " 

"I  could  never  be  afraid  of  you!"  she  answered 
truthfully. 

The  impulse  that  brought  her  closer  to  him  was  so 
strong  that,  though  she  said  to  herself  that  there  was 
nothing  of  the  sentimental  in  it,  it  seemed  to  her  that 
it  might  be  something  nobler,  more  unselfish,  more  sat- 
isfying than  that  which  she  had  conceived  of  as  love 
between  woman  and  man.  She  even  went  so  far  as 
to  wish  to  herself  that  it  might  have  been  different, 
that  she  could  have  given  him  all  without  a  lie,  that 
she  could  have  gone  bravely,  casting  the  die,  into  life 
with  Lindaberry.  If  only  she  had  not  known  Massin- 
gale!  To  give,  to  be  loved,  was  one  thing,  if  she  had 
not  known  the  blinding  intoxication  of  being  taken,  of 
loving! 

Three  days  later,  after  a  half  confidence  to  Estelle 
Monks,  she  went  with  her  to  a  society  bazaar  where 
Mrs.  Massingale  was  in  charge  of  a  booth.  It  was 
in  one  of  the  ballrooms  of  a  new  hotel,  more  overlaid 
with  gilt  and  ornaments  than  the  rest,  specially  and 
artfully  advertised  as  quite  the  most  expensive  in  the 
city.  As  a  consequence,  the  rooms  were  packed  with 


THE  SALAMANDER  267 

a  struggling  gazing  crowd,  swirling  about  the  coun- 
ters where  the  social  patronesses  looked  on  with  the 
disdain  of  lap-dogs  of  high  degree. 

"  This  one  —  lady  in  baby  pink,  sharp  face,"  said 
Estelle  Monks. 

In  that  brief  terrifying  instant,  before  she  was  able 
to  raise  her  eyes,  Dodo  was  shaken  from  head  to  foot. 
Never  before  had  so  much  penetrating  despair  crowded 
upon  her  in  such  a  fraction  of  time! 

She  was  at  a  counter  of  fragrant  hand-bags,  staring 
up  into  the  face  of  a  bored,  hostile,  sharp-eyed  woman, 
struggling  for  youth  and  attention  —  a  brown  little 
wanderer  from  nowhere  confronting  a  great  lady. 

"What  can  I  sell  you?"  said  Mrs.  Massingale  with 
an  instantaneous  social  smile. 

She  found  herself  answering,   breathlessly: 

"No  — nothing!" 

The  smile  faded.  The  lady  turned  indifferently. 
It  was  close,  she  had  been  on  her  feet  almost  two 
hours,  she  was  pardonably  annoyed  at  this  staring  girl 
—  and  she  showed  it. 

Suddenly,  her  face  lit  up,  the  surface  smile  on  duty 
again.  A  group  of  men  advanced  effusively,  taking 
her  hand  delicately,  like  a  fragile  ornament.  She 
turned,  and  perceiving  Dodo  leaning  vacantly,  said : 

"  Excuse  me !  " 

Without  too  much  insistence  she  extended  her  fin- 
gers and  moved  her  from  the  path  of  possible  purchas- 
ers. 

Dodo  went,  hurt,  crushed  and  revolting.  There  had 
been  nothing  which  the  other  had  not  had  a  right  to 


268  THE  SALAMANDER 

do,  yet  in  those  seconds  she  had  experienced  the  deep- 
est humiliation  a  woman  can  receive  from  another, 
the  disdain  of  caste. 

She  had  come  penitent  and  full  of  compassion. 
She  went  in  a  dangerous  mood;  this  woman,  perfectly 
correct,  perfectly  emotionless,  perfectly  cold  and  bril- 
liant, might  be  Mrs.  Massingale;  she  could  never  be 
his  wife! 

"  No,  that  is  not  a  marriage !  "  she  said  indignantly 
to  herself. 

The  thing  she  dreaded,  and  hoped  for,  had  come  to 
pass.  She  forgave  him,  and  she  understood ! 

Yet  she  hesitated  day  after  day,  until  ten  had  passed 
in  a  whirl,  alternately  resolved,  alternately  recoiling. 
She  had  no  defined  morality.  She  was  one  of  a  thou- 
sand young  girls  of  to-day,  adrift,  neither  good  nor 
bad,  quite  unmoral  —  the  good  and  the  bad  equally 
responsive  and  the  ultimate  victory  waiting  on  the  first 
great  influence  from  without,  which  would  master  her. 
She  had  no  home;  she  was  alone,  a  social  mongrel. 
She  could  only  hurt  herself.  What  her  parents  had 
left  her  was  only  a  heritage  of  lawlessness.  Yet  she 
hesitated,  frightened  by  some  fear  conjured  up  from 
an  unconscious  self,  like  thin  remembered  notes  of  vil- 
lage bells,  across  the  tumult  of  worldly  clamors.  At 
last,  when  she  could  see  before  her  no  other  face,  when 
the  sound  of  his  voice  was  mingled  with  every  sound 
that  came  to  her  ear,  when  nothing  else  diverted  her 
a  moment  from  the  insistent  drumming  ache  of  the 
present,  she  yielded.  She  went  in  the  afternoon,  just 
before  four,  to  the  court  in  Jefferson  Market  where 


THE  SALAMANDER  269 

she  knew  he  was,  pushing  her  way  through  the  miser- 
able, the  venal,  the  vermin  of  all  nations,  clustered  and 
ill  smelling. 

He  saw  her  instantly  as  she  came  into  the  aisle. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

/ 

DORE  had  not  been  mistaken  in  her  swift  percep- 
tion on  entering  the  court  room,  heavy  with 
weakness  and  discouragement.  Judge  Massingale 
saw  her  with  a  feeling  of  profound  relief.  Whatever 
came  now,  the  responsibility  lay  on  her  head,  not  on 
his.  Just  how  completely  one  memory  had  filled  his 
days  he  did  not  realize  until  he  experienced  a  sudden 
excited  calm  at  the  thought  that  she  was  there  by  his 
side,  and  that  the  long  weeks  of  struggle  had  been  in 
vain. 

For,  he,  too,  had  struggled  against  every  instinct 
in  him,  warned  by  his  clear  and  analytical  brain  that 
his  hands  were  on  the  curtains  of  a  perilous  and  for- 
bidden adventure.  At  first  he  had  been  immensely 
surprised  that  in  his  forty-second  year  it  should  sud- 
denly flash  across  him,  from  the  depths  of  eyes  of 
cloudy  blue,  that  he  was  as  human  as  his  brother. 
The  memory  of  the  soft  white  arms  against  his  cheek, 
the  ecstasy  of  the  girl  who,  in  a  twinkling,  had  sur- 
rendered to  his  domination,  withholding  nothing, 
eager  and  unafraid,  enveloped  in  the  blinding  halo  of 
complete  renunciation  and  faith,  her  look  when  her 
eyes  sought  his,  her  lips,  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the 
naturalness  of  it  all,  the  human  directness,  all  returned 
again  and  again  to  demolish  and  scatter  the  careful 

270 


THE  SALAMANDER  271 

intellectual  theory  of  conduct  which  he  had  raised  for 
his  defense  in  life. 

At  the  time  when  Judge  Massingale,  by  a  trick  of 
fate,  had  blundered  upon  the  acquaintance  of  Dore 
Baxter,  he  had  arrived  at  that  satisfactory  station  in 
life  when  he  could  look  upon  himself  as  a  perfectly 
disciplined  being.  He  had  passed  through  a  period 
of  embittered  emotional  revolt  which  had  threatened 
to  carry  him  publicly  into  the  divorce  courts,  and 
through  a  deeper  period  of  moral  revolt  which  came 
near  sacrificing  him  on  the  altar  of  the  social  re- 
former. Now  he  had  come  to  an  attitude  of  toler- 
ant and  amused  contemplation  of  things  as  they  are, 
without  fretting  his  spirit  as  to  things  as  they  should 
be. 

His  marriage  had  been  a  purely  conventional  one, 
contracted  in  the  weak  and  vulnerable  period  of  the 
early  twenties  at  the  instigation  of  his  mother,  who 
had  become  suddenly  alarmed  at  a  college  infatuation 
for  the  daughter  of  one  of  his  professors.  Within  a 
year  the  thoroughly  unsuited  couple  had  come  to  an 
amicable  understanding  of  the  duties  involved  in  their 
covenant  before  the  church. 

Mrs.  Massingale  was  incapable  of  an  original  men- 
tal operation,  but  she  was  clever  enough  to  combine 
the  opinions  of  those  who  seemed  to  know.  She 
thoroughly  disapproved  of  her  husband's  soiling  polit- 
ical ventures,  as  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  gentleman. 
Each  week  she  devoted  one  afternoon  and  one  evening 
to  the  encouragement  of  the  arts;  the  rest  was  given 
over  to  the  punctilious  performance  of  the  proper  so- 


272  THE  SALAMANDER 

cial  duties  to  those  whom  she  disliked  and  who  dis- 
liked her.  Absolutely  cold  and  absolutely  prudish, 
she  had  not  hesitated,  in  that  hazardous  period  of 
maidenhood,  to  effect  the  successful  capture  of  such 
a  matrimonial  prize  by  subtle  appeals  to  his  senses; 
but  as  though  bitterly  resenting  the  means  to  which 
an  unjust  society  reduces  a  modest  woman  to  secure 
her  future,  she  revenged  herself  on  her  amazed  hus- 
band by  a  sort  of  vindictive  antagonism. 

He  had  fiercely  combated  this  marriage,  vowing 
he  would  marry  the  love  of  his  college  days,  if  he 
had  to  carry  her  off  in  the  good  old  way.  But  his 
mother,  being  quite  determined  and  unprincipled,  paid 
the  girl  a  visit,  and  contrived  to  make  the  interview 
so  completely  insulting  that  the  rupture  resulted  im- 
mediately. 

In  the  third  year  of  his  marriage  Massingale  had 
again  become  infatuated,  this  time  with  the  young 
wife  of  an  elderly  friend.  As  the  married  relations 
on  either  side  were  identical,  and  each  was  chafing 
against  the  irritating  and  galling  yoke,  longing  for 
life  and  liberty,  the  infatuation  soon  assumed  tragic 
proportions.  She  wished  to  break  through  every- 
thing, ready  to  go  openly  with  him  until,  their  respec- 
tive divorces  secured,  they  could  be  married.  He 
passed  eight  days  feverishly  inclined,  debating  the  is- 
sue. But  in  the  end,  for  the  stigma  that  would  lay 
across  his  shoulders,  for  the  reputation  of  the  family, 
the  customs  of  a  man  of  the  world,  and  what  not,  he 
resisted. 

He  had  thought  then  that  he  had  sacrificed  the  world 


THE  SALAMANDER  273 

and  the  heavens  for  a  hollow  recompense;  but,  as  the 
years  sent  the  drifting  sands  of  their  oblivion  over  the 
memory,  he  had  come  to  look  upon  this  emotional  ad- 
venture as  a  great  peril  avoided.  He  had  believed 
then  in  the  union  of  man  and  woman  as  something 
like  a  divine  rage,  all-absorbing,  obliterating  everything 
else  —  this  in  the  bitter  revolt  against  the  deception 
which  had  come  in  his  marriage.  Ten  years  later  he 
had  arrived  at  the  point  of  looking  back  with  tolerant 
humor,  and  confessing  to  himself  that  for  his  purposes 
he  was  perhaps  fortunate  in  a  union  which  brought  no 
compulsion  into  his  life,  obtruded  itself  in  no  way, 
and  gave  him  complete  liberty  to  pursue  his  intellectual 
curiosity  in  unrestricted  intercourse  with  men  of 
varied  stations. 

From  law  school  he  had  gone  as  an  assistant  into 
the  district  attorney's  office,  and  the  three  years  spent 
in  those  catacombs  of  humanity  had  removed  the 
veneer  of  generations  of  inherited  snobbery.  The 
first  view  of  the  vermin-populated  halls  of  justice  had 
appalled  him,  and  aroused  in  him  a  religious  fury. 
The  spectacle  of  the  strong  riding  the  weak,  judges 
gravely  listening  to  lying  hypocrisies,  criminals  in  gold 
buttons  and  uniform,  the  insolence  of  power,  the  cyni- 
cism of  brains,  and,  below  all,  raw  humanity  gasping 
under  staggering  burdens,  mocked,  farmed  out,  be- 
trayed—  all  this  sank  so  profoundly  into  his  young 
enthusiasm  that  he  swore  to  himself  that  the  day  would 
come  when  he  would  lift  up  his  voice  against  iniquity, 
no  matter  how  intrenched  it  might  rest. 

If  at  this  time  he  had  had  the  courage  to  break  with 


274  THE  SALAMANDER 

social  prejudices  and  seek  reality  and  inspiration  in 
the  love  of  a  woman  ready  to  sacrifice  everything  for 
him,  it  is  probable  that  he  would  have  one  day  stirred 
the  sophisticated  forces  of  the  city  to  furious  in- 
vective, and  accomplished  little  or  great  good,  accord- 
ing to  the  sport  of  chance.  But  the  impossibility  of 
assuming  responsibility  before  social  conventions  had 
its  effect  on  the  thinker,  too.  He  gradually  reconciled 
himself,  lulled  into  tolerance  by  the  good  fellowship 
of  those  whom  he  would  have  to  attack.  He  still  dis- 
approved, but  he  added  to  the  first  fierce  protestation, 
"  Things  must  be  changed,"  the  saving  clause,  "  but  I 
can  not  change  them !  " 

Later,  when,  in  a  sudden  burst  of  reform,  a  mayor, 
revolting  against  the  machine,  appointed  him  a  munici- 
pal magistrate,  he  had  progressed  further,  even  to  the 
point  of  saying  that  things  had  always  been  the  same, 
here  as  elsewhere,  that  what  was  needed  was  to  be 
practical,  to  accomplish  quietly  as  much  good  as  pos- 
sible, instead  of  shrieking  into  unbelieving  ears.  His 
religious  fury  had  subsided  into  a  great  compassion. 
He  sought  to  save  rather  than  to  punish.  He  became 
known  as  a  judge  who  could  not  be  approached.  He 
had  had  one  or  two  conflicts  with  the  machine  of  the 
shadows,  and  had  come  out  victorious  and  respected. 
He  was  known  as  a  very  courageous  man. 

Life  lay  agreeably  ahead.  As  the  emotional  and 
spiritual  cravings  departed,  his  curiosity  increased. 
Life  on  the  surface,  life  as  a  spectator,  life  as  the  con- 
fidant of  others,  watching  developments,  explosions, 


THE  SALAMANDER  275 

consequences,  was  very  satisfying,  without  danger. 
He  knew  from  experience  the  sting  of  great  emotions, 
and  he  said  to  himself  that  that  man  was  securest  in 
his  happiness  who  depended  on  no  indispensable 
friendship,  who  cherished  in  his  imagination  no  ambi- 
tion linked  with  the  stars,  who  took  the  laughter  and 
the  smiles  of  women,  and  avoided  the  heat,  the  pain 
and  the  soul-bruising  of  a  great  passion.  Such  love 
was  to  him  yoked  with  tragedy,  conflict,  disillusion- 
ment, subjection,  or  crowned  with  final  emptiness. 

He  had  indeed  become  the  judicial  observer,  watch- 
ing with  unsated  amusement,  through  his  thousand 
points  of  vantage,  the  complex  panorama  of  human 
beings  groping,  struggling,  crawling,  running,  bac- 
chanalian with  sudden  hysteric  joys,  or  crying  against 
little  tragedies.  His  intimate  acquaintance  with  men 
of  every  calling,  open  or  suspect,  was  immense.  His 
knowledge  of  the  city,  its  big  and  little  secrets,  its 
whys  and  wherefores,  its  entangled  virtue  and  vice,  its 
secret  ways  from  respectability  to  shame,  its  strange 
bedfellows,  the  standards  of  honor  among  the  corrupt 
and  the  mental  sophistries  of  the  strong,  was  pro- 
found. For  him  the  baffling  brownstone  mask  of 
New  York  did  not  exist.  People  instinctively  trusted 
him.  Criminals  told  him  true  stories  in  restaurants 
where  few  could  venture;  women  of  all  sorts  and 
conditions,  passing  before  him  for  grave  or  minor 
offenses,  often  returned  for  advice  or  relief  from 
blackmailing  conditions.  The  police  swore  by  him, 
politicians  admitted  his  fairness.  He  played  the  game 


276  THE  SALAMANDER 

according  to  their  standards  of  honor  strictly  on  the 
evidence  presented,  never  taking  advantage  of  what 
was  told  him  privately. 

He  was  not  insensible  to  the  attraction  of  women. 
He  sought  their  confidence,  but  returned  none ;  amused 
at  their  comedies,  as  it  amused  him  intellectually  to 
reduce  a  lying  officer  to  terrified  confession.  Twice 
bruised,  he  never  attempted  more  than  a  light  and 
agreeable  comradeship.  He  had  that  curious  but 
rather  high  standard  of  morality  which  one  often  en- 
counters among  men  of  his  opportunity  in  life.  He 
prided  himself  that  no  woman  had  suffered  harm  by 
him,  which,  translated,  meant  that  he  had  never  been 
responsible.  In  fact,  he  shrank  from  the  thought  of 
incurring  responsibility.  This  was  the  horror  that 
had  sent  him  from  Dore,  for  he  was  honest  in  his  in- 
tellectual perceptions,  and  he  saw  at  once  that  what 
he  had  blundered  into  was  more  immoral  than  the 
flesh  hunter's  seeking  of  the  body,  for  this  was  traf- 
ficking with  a  soul. 

When  he  had  first  paused  to  study  Dore,  he  had  per- 
ceived in  her  an  unusual  specimen  of  a  type  which  he 
knew  and  enjoyed  immensely.  The  interesting 
woman,  to  him,  was  the  one  who  was  destined  to 
arouse  passions  and  leave  disaster  behind  her.  The 
antagonism  which  had  flared  up  between  Harrigan 
Blood  and  Sassoon  over  her  favors,  the  resulting  quar- 
rel as  she  had  escaped,  amused  him  immensely.  He 
was  not  ignorant  of  the  defensive  alliance  that  existed 
between  the  Sassoon  interests  and  Harrigan  Blood's 
chain  of  papers,  and  though  he  judged  too  clearly  not 


THE  SALAMANDER  277 

to  doubt  that  a  rupture  was  but  delayed,  it  struck  him 
as  the  very  essence  of  human  drama  that  forces  of 
such  magnitude  could  be  shaken  by  the  impertinent 
turn  of  a  head  or  a  luring  smile. 

"  Here  is  a  little  creature  who  is  going  to  make  a 
good  deal  of  trouble! "  he  thought  to  himself,  .and  in- 
terested at  once  before  the  possibilities  at  her  clever 
finger-tips,  he  had  said  to  himself:  "  I  am  seeing  the 
beginning  of  a  career,  anji  a  career  that  will  be  extraor- 
dinary!" 

With  this  keen  curiosity  in  mind,  not  insensible  to 
the  fleeting  compelling  lure  of  the  girl,  he  had  gone  up 
to  her  room,  and  suddenly,  as,  delighted,  he  had  pre- 
pared to  watch  the  net  prepared  for  others-,  it  had 
closed  over  him.  He  had  had  his  doubts  about  Dore, 
that  doubt  which  waits  in  the  mind  of  every  man  be- 
fore every  woman;  but  all  this  left  him  the  moment 
when,  conquered  in  his  arms,  she  had  clung  to  him 
blindly,  in  ecstasy.  He  comprehended  what  had  over- 
whelmed her  —  had  overwhelmed  her  by  surprise. 

It  was  only  when  he  had  a  dozen  times  sought  to 
compose  a  letter  which  would  be  neither  caddish, 
prudish,  or  brutal,  that  he  perceived  to  what  extent  the 
old  departed  famine  in  himself  had  fiercely  awakened. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  instantly  to  master  such  a 
peril,  but  he  had  not  succeeded.  His  conscience  rose 
up  at  every  turn,  accusing  him  of  cowardice.  How 
deep  had  been  the  wound  he  had  inflicted?  Had  he 
the  right,  for  his  own  security,  thus  violently  to  sepa- 
rate himself  from  the  girl  who,  without  artifice,  had 
suddenly  revealed  herself?  And  what  would  become 


278  THE  SALAMANDER 

of  her?  This  latter  idea  pursued  him  constantly, 
tormenting  him.  Finally,  oppressed  by  the  doubts 
which  her  absence  made  to  surge  about  him,  he  had 
gone  to  her  door.  She  had  left  that  very  afternoon. 
He  did  not  leave  his  name,  but  retreated  hastily,  af- 
fecting to  believe  that  Providence  had  thus  interfered 
to  save  him  from  a  great  calamity. 

When  she  had  flashed  into  his  life  again,  that  night 
in  the  noisy  Jungle  Room  at  Healey's,  as  he  knew  she 
must  sooner  or  later,  he  was  stricken  with  the  sudden 
imperious  claim  she  exerted  ovef  all  his  impulses. 
He  understood  all  she  sought  to  show  him  in  the  bit- 
terness of  her  mood,  but,  beyond  all  the  pain  he  saw 
he  had  inflicted,  he  was  terrified  by  the  thought  of  the 
danger  to  himself.  He  felt  the  fatality  that  waited 
in  the  intensity  of  her  nature,  the  fatality  that  for  a 
glance  and  a  word  had  made  enemies  of  Sassoon  and 
Blood.  The  sight  of  her  in  the  arms  of  other  men 
was  intolerable,  and  yet  he  could  not  avert  his  eyes. 
He  was  afraid  to  speak  to  her,  but  at  the  thought  of 
her  risking  herself  with  Lindaberry,  he  had  broken 
through  all  restraint.  When  she  had  gone,  he  had  a 
feeling  of  thankfulness.  He  had  done  all  he  could  to 
prevent  it.  After  all,  what  did  he  know  of  her?  If 
she  could  go  thus  with  Lindaberry,  what  had  she  done 
with  Sassoon,  Harrigan  Blood,  others?  With  fifty 
desperate  reasonings,  he  sought  to  excuse  himself  and 
find  a  justified  way  out.  But  always  the  accusation  in 
her  eyes,  as  she  turned  scornfully,  disdainfully  to  him 
in  all  the  shifting  points  of  the  dance,  remained. 

"  She  will  wreck  my  life!  "  he  said  to  himself  fifty 


THE  SALAMANDER  279 

times  a  day,  to  prevent  his  going  to  her.  "  Why  am 
I  responsible?  She  knew  what  she  was  doing,  that 
night!" 

But  at  the  first  glimpse  of  Dodo  in  the  blue  Russian 
blouse,  open  throat  and  white  toque  turning  into  the 
aisle,  he  had  felt  a  profound  relief.  He  had  done  all 
that  he  humanly  could  do :  he  had  resisted  to  the  last, 
struggled  against  the  impossible;  and,  now  that  she 
herself  had  resolved  it,  he  felt  immensely  thankful. 

The  last  case  before  him  was  one  of  daily  occur- 
rence —  domestic  trouble.  A  young  mother,  baby  in 
arms,  a  child  at  her  skirts,  preternaturally  bent  and 
worn,  had  summonsed  her  husband  into  court  on 
grounds  of  non-support,  accusing  him  of  intoxication. 
He  looked  at  the  couple,  seeing  deeper  —  the  man 
vigorous  and  young,  the  woman  whose  prettiness  had 
led  him  to  vow  eternal  constancy,  now  lost  in  drudgery 
and  unequal  burden.  What  could  he  say  to  the  un- 
scathed young  male  who  stood  staring  at  him  with 
awed  glance  —  bid  him  to  love  what  he  had  driven 
from  her  face  and  figure?  The  mockery  of  futile 
charges ! 

"  Why  don't  you  support  your  wife  and  children?  " 
he  asked,  for  the  thousandth  time.  "  Why  don't  you 
stop  drinking?  " 

The  husband,  a  young  mechanic,  promised  volubly 
what  each  knew  he  would  not  perform. 

"  Put  you  on  probation  for  three  months !  "  he  said 
sharply.  "  She's  your  wife;  you  married  her  because 
you  wanted  to.  Now,  stop  drinking  and  be  a  man,  or 
I'll  send  you  up  to  the  island.  Do  you  understand? " 


2&o  THE  SALAMANDER 

The  man  bowed  and  went  out,  the  woman  at  his 
heels,  dragging  her  second  child,  believing  that  a  word 
from  His  Honor  could  change  everything.  Massin- 
gale  watched  them  go,  staring  a  moment,  glanced  at  the 
clock  and  ended  the  session  with  a  nod  to  his  officer. 

"  Does  it  interest  you  ?  "  he  said  to  Dore,  in  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact tone. 

"Yes!" 

She  had  not  seen  a  thing  that  had  transpired. 

They  went  to  his  private  room,  noisy  and  dark  as 
the  rest,  the  window-panes  rattling  at  every  elevated 
train  that  went  crashing  through  the  air.  He  gave 
his  gown  to  an  attendant,  issued  a  few  orders  and 
they  were  alone.  Neither  spoke,  waiting  silently  the 
other's  advance,  afraid  to  speak  that  first  word ;  for  in 
such  moments  it  is  the  first  who  speaks  who  must  ex- 
plain. He  continued  to  look  at  her  with  his  magis- 
terial stare,  at  bottom  suddenly  vindictive,  resenting 
this  girl  who  had  dared  to  return  into  his  life,  to  re- 
claim him  to  uncertainty  and  perils  against  his  logic. 

She  extended  her  hands  in  a  little  helpless  move- 
ment, shook  her  head  and  said  timidly : 

"Well?" 

A  moment  before,  still  counseled  by  his  reason,  he 
had  been  on  the  point  of  a  cold  answer,  resolved  cor- 
rectly to  beg  her  pardon  and  make  this  interview  the 
last.  At  her  surrendering  gesture  and  the  plaintive 
note  in  her  voice,  a  great  pity  brushed  aside  everything 
else,  and  he  said  impulsively: 

"  I  went  once  —  you  were  away.  I  wanted  to  see 
you!" 


THE  SALAMANDER  281 

"  I  did  not  know,"  she  said  hurriedly,  rushing  at 
the  hardest  to  be  said, —  "  that  night  —  that  you  were 
married !  " 

"  I  understood  that." 

The  court  officer  returned,  announcing  his  auto- 
mobile, and  they  passed  out.  They  had  said  nothing, 
and  yet  everything  had  been  said. 

"  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?  "  he  said,  smiling. 

"  Anywhere !  " 

He  hesitated,  and  then  gave  her  address. 

"  We've  got  to  have  a  frank  talk,"  he  said  lightly ; 
"  then  we  can  run  up  somewhere  for  dinner  —  to  cele- 
brate. Did  you  notice  Riley,  my  special?  He's  a 
great  character !  " 

"Funny  mouth;  does  it  ever  stop  grinning?"  she 
said,  joyfully,  wonderfully,  perfectly  happy.  She 
leaned  to  him,  whispering  in  his  ear :  "  Was  he 
shocked  at  my  coming?" 

He  was  about  to  answer  indiscreetly,  but  caught 
himself. 

"  Riley?     No;  he's  quite  a  man  of  the  world !  " 

The  sunlight  and  the  frosty  December  air  restored 
his  clarity  of  thought.  He  would  have  the  plainest 
of  conversations  with  her.  If  they  could  go  on  as  free 
comrades,  well  and  good.  Perhaps  even  a  certain 
intimacy  were  better;  it  might  serve  to  readjust  cer- 
tain illusions  that  lingered  in  the  memory. 

He  glanced  at  her  sidewise,  physically  comforted  at 
the  delicacy  of  her  profile,  the  light  airy  youth  that 
hung  about  her,  intangible  as  a  perfume.  He  had 
known  ten,  twenty  women  more  beautiful  than  Dodo, 


282  THE  SALAMANDER 

more  stimulating  mentally,  with  an  elegance  that  she 
did  not  possess.  It  was  impossible  that  this  child,  en- 
ticing and  gay  as  she  was,  could  really  have  stirred 
him  to  uncontrollable  emotions !  With  these  thoughts 
running  through  his  mind,  his  confidence  returned; 
he  even  began  to  wonder  at  his  former  fear,  holding  it 
ridiculous.  If  she  were  foolishly  resolved  in  the  con- 
viction of  a  great  passion,  he  was  clever  enough  subtly 
to  undeceive  her,  to  regulate  their  relations  and  keep 
them  within  the  safe  limits  of  a  confidential  flirtation. 

Pursuing  this  idea,  he  said  nonchalantly,  as  they  en- 
tered her  room: 

"  Do  you  know,  young  mischief,  that  you  have  a 
great  deal  to  answer  for?  Sassoon  and  Harrigan 
Blood  are  at  each  other's  throats.  Blood's  been 
caught  in  the  market,  and  is  hammering  the  Sassoon 
interests  like  a  wild  one.  What  have  you  been  doing 
with  them  all  this  time?  " 

"  How  false  that  all  sounds !  "  she  said  abruptly. 

Disconcerted,  he  changed  his  tactics,  saying  seri- 
ously : 

"  Dodo,  you  are  a  very  combustible  sort  of  person. 
Do  you  realize  the  danger  of  what  we  are  doing?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  impatiently,  going  di- 
rectly to  the  issue : 

"  Tell  me  about  yourself  —  about  your  real  self : 
your  home,  your  wife!  I  must  know!" 

"  I  don't  wish  to  talk  about  others,"  he  said,  irri- 
tated in  his  sense  of  delicacy. 

"  But  I  do ! "  she  said  passionately.  "  I  saw  her. 
There  can  be  nothing  between  you  —  and  her !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  283 

He  made  an  imperative  gesture,  checking  himself 
immediately,  saying  with  more  restraint: 

"  There  is  nothing  between  us.  Dodo,  there  are 
some  things  I  don't  think  you  quite  understand. 
Whatever  may  exist,  I  can  not  discuss  Mrs.  Massin- 
gale  with  others !  " 

"  '  Others  ' !  "  she  said  indignantly,  turning  from 
him,  deeply  hurt. 

He  took  her  by  the  wrist  and  led  her  to  a  seat,  feel- 
ing the  necessity  of  asserting  his  supremacy.  She  al- 
lowed herself  to  be  forced  into  it,  looking  up  at  him 
with  rebellious  eyes,  like  a  naughty  child. 

"  Do  you  know  the  danger  of  what  you  are  doing?  " 
he  repeated.  And  then  he  corrected  himself  — "  What 
we  are  doing  ?  " 

Her  face  changed  instantly,  becoming  very  serious. 
Her  eyes  looked  past  him  out  of  the  window,  begin- 
ning to  be  blurred  by  the  gathering  tears.  He  drew 
back  hastily. 

"  Why  do  you  talk  to  me  like  this  ?  What  is  the 
use  of  it  all  ?  " 

"Why?"  he  exclaimed  fiercely.  "Because  you 
are  a  child;  because  you  try  me  beyond  my  patience; 
because  I  want  to  be  fair  and  honorable  with  you ;  be- 
cause I  could — " 

She  was  on  her  feet  instantly,  clapping  her  hands 
together. 

"  Ah,  that's  what  I  want  to  hear  again  —  again !  " 

He  halted  directly,  with  a  helpless  gesture. 

"  Dodo,"  he  said  firmly,  "  listen  to  me !  I  will  not 
make  another  mistake!  If  you  don't  realize  things,  I 


284  THE  SALAMANDER 

do.  I  want  to  be  your  friend ;  I  do  want  to  see  you ; 
but,  unless  it  can  be  so,  I — " 

"  Oh ! "  she  cried  furiously,  dangerously  near  the 
point  of  self-dramatization.  "  Don't  always  reason ; 
don't  think  of  what  is  going  to  happen!  Let's  be  as 
we  are!  I  can't  help  it  —  can  you?  You  know  you 
can't!" 

"And  then?" 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  of  then!  Think  of  to-day!  Do 
you  think,  when  the  first  great  thing  has  come  into 
my  life,  that  I'm  going  to  put  it  aside  for  —  what?" 
She  flung  her  arm  out  toward  the  ugly  brick  side  that 
symbolized  to  her  all  that  she  hated :  "  A  little  or- 
dinary life,  like  every  other  ordinary  little  life?  No! 
I  told  you  I  won't  be  like  every  one  else!  It's  true! 
I  don't  want  to  live,  if  that's  what  life  means !  " 

He  said  to  himself  swiftly  that  he  had  made  a  great 
mistake  in  coming ;  that  he  would  end  it  as  soon  as  he 
could;  and  that  he  would  never  venture  again,  even  if 
he  had  to  run  away.  For  every  accent  of  her  voice, 
every  flashing  look,  moved  him  perilously. 

"What  do  you  want?  Do  you  know?"  he  asked 
roughly. 

"  I  want  to  be  near  you ;  that's  all  I  know  now !  " 
she  said,  folding  her  hands  over  her  breast  and  clos- 
ing her  eyes. 

"And  the  end?" 

She  was  at  his  side  with  a  bound,  clutching  his  arm. 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  the  difference  between  us  ? 
I  am  honest;  I  say  what  I  think!  You  are  afraid  to 
admit  what  you  feel !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  '285 

"  The  situation  is  not  the  same,"  he  said  stubbornly. 
"  The  responsibility  is  all  on  my  side !  " 

"  Oh,  Your  Honor !  "  she  said  sublimely.  "  Don't 
let's  talk!  Don't  you  know  it  won't  change  anything? 
It  will  be  such  a  great,  great  love.  I  know  it  —  I  feel 
it!  So  beautiful!  And  what  else  matters?  It's  our 
life,  and  you  —  you  have  never  really  lived!  " 

Her  impetuosity  sobered  him.  He  made  a  turn  of 
the  room ;  when  he  came  back  he  was  smiling,  with  the 
smile  she  hated.  "  Dodo,  I  suppose  at  this  moment 
you  think  you  would  go  off  with  me  anywhere." 

"Anywhere!" 

"  But  you  wouldn't !  "  he  said  quietly.  "  Luckily,  I 
understand  you !  "  He  shook  his  head.  "  Acting  — 
always  acting!  " 

"No!" 

"Yes  —  acting  with  yourself,  dramatizing  a  situa- 
tion. But  that's  all!  Just  another  precipice!  Dan- 
gerous for  you,  but  fatal  to  me  if  I  were  to  believe 
you!" 

"  Oh,  I  swear  to  you  that  isn't  so !  "  she  cried,  with 
a  gesture  that  he  appreciated,  even  at  the  moment,  for 
its  dramatic  verity. 

"  Come !  "  he  said  quietly.  "  Let's  be  good  com- 
rades. Don't  dabble  with  fire !  " 

'  You  think,  when  you  leave,  you  will  never  see  me 
again! "  she  said  swiftly,  surprising  him  by  the  pene- 
tration of  her  intuition.  She  went  to  him,  fastening 
her  fingers  about  him  like  the  tendrils  of  clinging  ivy. 
"  Well,  Your  Honor,  I  will  never  let  you  go !  Remem- 
ber that!  If  you  don't  come,  I  will  go  and  get  you! 


'286  THE  SALAMANDER 

You  have  caught  me,  and  you  can  never  get  rid  of  me. 
I  swear  it !  " 

She  sprang  away  quickly,  affecting  nonchalance. 
The  door  opened  and  Snyder  came  in,  stopping  short 
at  the  sight  of  the  two  figures,  indistinct  in  the  twi- 
light. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  Snyder !  "  Dore  said  hastily. 
"  My  friend,  Judge  Massingale." 

Snyder  gave  him  her  hand  abruptly,  with  a  quick 
antagonistic  movement,  watching  his  embarrassed  face 
keenly. 

"Just  came  up  to  get  my  coat,"  said  Dore  glibly. 
"  Going  out  for  dinner !  " 

They  left  hurriedly,  ill  at  ease.  On  the  second 
stairway,  in  the  dark,  she  stopped  him,  and  approach- 
ing her  lips  so  close  to  his  ear  that  they  almost  brushed 
it,  said: 

"  I  am  not  acting ;  I  mean  everything.  It  is  to  be 
the  great  thing  in  my  life !  " 

He  laughed,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  I  understand  her  now,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  a 
feeling  of  strength.  "She  may  deceive  herself;  she 
can  not  blind  me !  "  Later  he  added  uneasily :  "  If 
I  ever  believe  her,  I  am  lost ! " 

But  Dore  believed  implicitly  what  she  had  said.  At 
the  bottom,  what  was  working  in  her  soul  ?  That  in- 
stinct, second  only  to  the  nesting  instinct,  in  woman, 
that  great  protective  impulse  which  alone  explains  a 
thousand  incomprehensible  attachments.  He  had 
taken  her,  caught  her  soul  and  her  imagination,  law- 
lessly, unfairly  perhaps;  but  there  it  remained,  an  im- 


THE  SALAMANDER  287 

perishable  mark.  Only  one  thing  could  atone  to  her 
self-respect  —  the  glorification  of  this  accident.  Only 
when  into  his  acquiring  soul  had  come  an  immense 
overpowering  love,  could  a  renunciation  be  possible 
which  would  live  in  her  memory,  not  to  recall  blushes 
of  anger  and  shame,  but  to  give  the  satisfaction  of  a 
heroic  sacrifice.  But  the  danger  lay  in  his  incredulity 
and  resistance ! 


CHAPTER  XX 

ON  their  fourth  meeting  a  furious  quarrel  devel- 
oped. Dodo  had  expected  that,  with  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  reconciliation  resolved,  their  relations 
would  be  resumed  where  they  had  been  interrupted. 
She  found,  to  her  surprise,  that  only  a  new  conflict 
had  opened.  She  did  not  divine  at  once  all  the  hesi- 
tation of  his  character,  but  she  perceived  an  opposi- 
tion which  amazed  her.  In  her  infatuation,  she 
wished  to  run  heedlessly,  with  bandaged  eyes  and 
hungry  arms,  into  these  enchanted  gardens  of  her 
imagination.  She  did  not  wish  to  visualize  facts, 
hungrily  seeking  the  satisfaction  of  undefined  illu- 
sions. That  he  should  follow  gravely,  with  troubled 
searching  glance,  aroused  in  her  a  storm  of  resent- 
ment. She  little  guessed  at  what  price  he  paid  for  his 
self-control.  She  could  not  comprehend  this  resist- 
ance in  him.  What  was  it  held  him  back?  He  spoke 
of  everything  but  the  one  vital  issue  —  themselves. 
Unconsciously  she  felt  herself  forced  to  fasten  to  him, 
as  instinctively  she  felt  him  seeking  escape.  But  al- 
ways, while  thus  led  to  compel  him  on  she  refused  to 
consider  where  the  road  might  lead. 

Massingale,  in  fact,  in  the  moments  of  her  absence, 
was  continually  torn  between  his  impulses  and  his 
logic.  Logically  he  saw  the  danger  without  an  at- 

288 


THE  SALAMANDER  289 

tempt  at  subterfuge.  He  did  not  believe  in  her,  and 
he  was  certain  that  at  the  last  crucial  test  she  would 
never  break  through  conventionalities ;  but  he  foresaw 
that  the  true  danger  lay,  not  in  her  romanesque  im- 
agination, but  in  the  hunger  that  would  awaken  in 
him.  Even  the  appearance  of  evil  must  always  be 
inscribed  to  his  account  by  that  judgment  of  society 
that  never  goes  below  the  surface  and  would  persist 
in  seeing  in  the  present  situation  only  an  inexperi- 
enced young  girl  and  a  man  of  the  world,  married, 
who  pursued. 

By  every  reason  he  sought  to  liberate  his  imagina- 
tion, and  only  succeeded  in  enmeshing  himself  the 
more  securely  in  the  silk  imprisonment.  To  each 
clear  and  warning  argument  a  memory  rose  victo- 
riously, confounding  reason  and  bringing  new  longings. 
When  in  her  presence,  he  found  the  study  of  this 
perplexing  and  ardent  disciple  of  youth,  who  had 
darted  across  into  his  life  out  of  nowhere,  one  of  end- 
less mystification  and  satisfaction.  He  forgot  all  his 
resolves  in  the  sensation  of  gazing  into  the  pro- 
foundly troubling  blue  of  her  glance,  watching  the  di- 
vine subtleties  of  that  smile  which  began  in  the  twin- 
kling corners  of  her  eyes  and  glided,  with  always  a  note 
of  arch  malice,  to  the  childlike  lips.  Sometimes  he 
incited  her  to  assumed  anger  in  order  to  watch  the 
sudden  lights  that  awakened  in  the  cloudy  eyes,  the 
sharp  little  teeth,  brilliant  against  the  parted  red  of 
the  lips,  the  heightened  danger-signals  on  the  cheek. 
And  when,  in  curious  restaurants,  removed  from  the 
prying  gaze  of  Mrs.  Grundy,  they  ensconced  them- 


290  THE  SALAMANDER 

selves,  laughing  with  the  delight  of  truants  at  finding 
a  hiding-place,  the  slight  pressure  of  her  foot  against 
his,  a  moment  offered  and  a  moment  gone,  created 
new  philosophies  in  his  logical  brain,  and  he  repeated 
to  himself  again  and  again  that  he  would  change  all 
to  be  a  young  cub,  as  the  young  fellows  who  sur- 
rounded them,  starting  life  undaunted  and  free.  To 
have  the  right,  or  to  do  no  harm ! 

Often,  watching  her  sparkling  mood,  that  showed 
itself  in  a  dozen  laughing  tricks  with  cutlery  or  glass, 
mystified,  he  asked  himself: 

"  Does  she  realize  what  this  means?  " 

There  lay  this  great  difference  between  them  —  he 
sought  gloomily  to  foresee  the  end,  she  was  in  rap- 
tures only  at  the  beginning.  In  this  period  which  pre- 
ceded the  inevitable  one  when  he  would  find  subterfuge 
and  evasion  to  put  his  conscience  to  sleep,  a  period 
in  which  he  still  felt  the  closing  of  the  trap  on  his 
liberty,  and  saw  clearly  because  he  still  wished  to  re- 
sist, Massingale  asked  himself  logically  where  each 
step  would  lead.  How  long  could  his  embottled  con- 
trol be  kept  to  phrases?  And  when,  in  one  com- 
bustible moment,  he  should  obey  the  longing  to  recall 
that  hour  when,  conquering  her,  she  had  conquered 
him,  what  would  follow? 

Shrinking  from  the  thought  of  another  solution,  he 
asked  himself  once  or  twice  if,  under  her  artless  in- 
souciance, there  was  not  a  deep  calculation;  or  if,  in- 
deed, she  were  planning  to  upset  everything  in  his  life, 
drag  him  into  the  publicity  of  the  divorce  courts,  create 
a  new  home,  dissolve  old  habits,  estrange  old  friends, 


THE  SALAMANDER  291 

and  fasten  on  him  new  ones.  He  thought  thus,  not 
because  he  thought  honestly,  but  because  he  wished  to 
recoil  from  immediate  responsibility. 

Dodo  had  not  the  slightest  care  of  the  future.  The 
next  month  or  the  next  week  did  not  exist;  the  day 
sufficed.  She  raised  no  questions;  she  contented  her- 
self rapturously  with  emotions. 

"  He  will  come  at  five  —  how  many  hours  more  ? 
He  will  be  here  at  five  —  where  shall  we  go  for  din- 
ner? Where  can  we  be  alone?  He  will  come — " 

Her  mind  satisfied  itself  with  such  speculations. 
If,  at  this  time,  he  had  again  asked  her  seriously  what 
would  come  of  it  all,  she  probably  would  have  an- 
swered him  pettishly,  like  a  gay  child : 

"  Oh,  don't  let's  talk  of  annoying  things." 

He  began  a  hundred  comedies  of  resistance,  some 
of  which  she  detected  scornfully,  others  which  eluded, 
in  their  subtlety,  her  analysis.  There  were  times 
when,  uneasy  at  the  growing  responsibility  that  she 
was  slowly  drawing  about  his  shoulders,  he  tried  by 
artful  questions  to  convince  himself  that  she  was  not 
quite  so  innocent  as  he  had  believed. 

"  And  how  do  you  put  off  Sassoon  all  this  time,  and 
Harrigan  Blood  ?  "  he  asked  her  once,  abruptly. 

It  was  their  fourth  successive  evening  together. 
They  had  gone  to  the  "  Hickory  Log,"  a  chop-house 
on  lower  Seventh  Avenue,  secure  of  finding  privacy. 
The  walls  had  been  decorated  to  simulate  ancient 
Greenwich  village;  the  floor,  fenced  off  with  green 
palings,  affording  convenient  nooks.  In  the  back,  be- 
fore a  spacious  open  oven,  chickens  and  steaks  were 


292  THE  SALAMANDER 

turning  savorously  over  glowing  hickory  embers,  that 
mingled  their  clean  pungent  perfume  with  appetizing 
odors.  Up-stairs,  in  special  rooms,  some  East  Side 
club  was  noisily  celebrating  over  a  chop  supper,  while 
from  time  to  time  two  or  three  young  men  in  white 
berets  and  coats  came  singing  down  the  turning  stairs, 
saluting  gaily  the  sympathetic  audience. 

Below,  everywhere  was  the  feeling  of  the  people, 
happy,  prosperous,  relaxed,  feasting  on  heavy  bour- 
geois dishes  flanked  by  huge  bumpers  of  the  beer 
which  made  the  "  Hickory  Log "  a  Mecca  for  the 
thirsty.  The  floor  was  sanded,  the  tables  bare  of 
cloth.  Opposite  them  a  young  man  had  his  arm  about 
his  sweetheart,  bending  his  head  to  her  ear.  When  a 
group  of  the  revelers  saluted  them  with  enthusiasm, 
each  returned  a  laughing  acknowledgment,  but  with- 
out change  of  pose. 

"  How  natural  all  this  is !  "  said  Dodo,  finding  in 
her  hungry  soul  a  kindred  longing.  "  How  they  en- 
joy things!  We  must  come  here  often.  This  gar- 
den, this  table  —  it  shall  be  ours !  " 

"  And  how  do  you  keep  Sassoon  and  Blood  in  good 
appetite,  little  Mormon  ?  "  he  persisted. 

She  hated  this  incredulous  cynical  mood  of  his,  and 
she  disapproved  of  the  epithet. 

"  Why  do  you  always  begin  like  this  ?  "  she  said, 
chopping  off  the  head  of  a  celery  stalk  with  a  vicious 
blow  of  her  knife.  "  I  am  not  a  Mormon,  and  you 
know  perfectly  well  that  no  one  else  exists  now  for 
me !  "  She  turned,  saw  his  quizzical  look,  and  added 
vigorously:  "And  I  am  not  acting!" 


THE  SALAMANDER  293 

"  Do,  please.     It  is  your  great  charm !  " 

"  You  are  positively  hateful !  " 

"  Well,  why  did  you  encourage  Sassoon,  then  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  little  malice  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  think  yourself  one  of 
many?  " 

This  was  too  near  the  mark.  He  answered 
evasively : 

"  All  I  wish  is  to  be  your  father  confessor,  you 
know!" 

This  simulation  of  friendship  was  another  thing 
that  always  aroused  her.  She  wished  to  punish  him, 
and  began  to  embroider. 

"  Yes,  I  encourage  Sassoon,"  she  said,  leaning  on 
the  table,  nodding  in  emphasis,  and  switching  a  celery 
stalk  among  the  glasses  venomously,  like  the  tail  of  an 
irritated  leopard.  "  Harrigan  Blood,  too.  And  I 
have  my  reasons.  You  think  I  am  a  wild  little  crea- 
ture who  never  looks  ahead.  Quite  wrong!  Every- 
thing is  planned  out.  Everything  will  be  settled  — 
definitely  —  soon !  " 

"When?" 

"  On  my  twenty-third  birthday  —  on  the  tenth  of 
March.  Remember  that  date !  " 

"  Very  appropriate  month,"  he  interjected. 

"Then  I  am  through  with  this  sort  of  a  life — - 
good-by  forever  to  Dodo!"  she  went  on  rapidly. 
''  You  don't  -believe  me  ?  I  assure  you,  I  never  was 
more  serious !  Then  I  shall  choose  " —  she  raised  her 
fingers,  counting  — "  a  great  love,  marriage,  career, 
or" — she  ended  with  a  shrug — "lots  of  money!" 


294  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  comprehending  her  maneuver,  and 
yet  annoyed  by  it.  "  And  so  Sassoon  is  a  possibil- 
ity?" 

"  If  you  fail,  quite  a  possibility!"  she  said,  to  irri- 
tate him  further.  "  At  any  rate,  I  shall  keep  him  just 
where  I  want  him  —  until  the  time  comes  to  decide !  " 

"  You  could  never  do  that,  Dodo !  "  he  said  sharply. 

"  Oh,  couldn't  I  ?  "  she  cried,  delighted  that  he  had 
entertained  the  thought.  "  I'm  quite  capable  of  being 
a  cold-blooded  little  adventuress!  Perhaps  I  am  one, 
and  am  only  making  sport  of  you.  Beware !  As  for 
Sassoon  —  do  you  know  what  I'd  do  ?  I'd  make  him 
give  me  a  career,  and  then,  when  I  am  very,  very  well 
known,  perhaps  —  if  I  wanted  —  I'd  make  him  di- 
vorce, and  become  Mrs.  Sassoon!  How  would  you 
like  to  meet  me  in  society  ? "  She  laughed  at  the 
thought,  but  added  immediately :  "  Oh,  it  is  not  so 
impossible,  either!  Nowadays,  a  clever  girl  who  sees 
just  what  she  wants  can  do  anything!  " 

"  Is  that  what  you  would  do  with  me  ? "  he  said 
quietly. 

She  turned  swiftly,  abandoning  all  her  pretense,  pain 
in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  no,  Your  Honor !  Not  with  you !  I  would 
take  nothing  from  you,  now  or  ever! " 

"  Then  don't  say  such  things !  "  he  said,  strangely 
soothed  by  the  passion  in  her  voice. 

"Don't  be  —  friendly,  then!"  she  retorted,  and 
with  a  quick  appealing  raising  of  her  eyes  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his. 

"  I  must  talk  frankly  with  her !  "  he  said  to  himself, 


THE  SALAMANDER  295 

with  a  groaning  of  the  spirit.  "  She  will  not  face  the 
situation,  and  there  can  be  no  solution  to  it  —  no  pos- 
sible solution ! "  He  turned  heroically,  resolved  to  lay 
down  the  law,  and  his  stern  eyes  encountered  hers, 
so  troubling  and  so  untroubled,  tempting  and  yielding 
—  glorified  and  inconscient 

"I  am  so  happy!"  she  said;  and,  in  an  excess  of 
emotion,  as  if  suffocating,  her  eyes  closed  and  her 
breast  rose  in  a  long  sigh.  Arguments  and  fears  went 
riotously  head  over  heels  in  flight. 

It  was  almost  at  the  end  of  the  dinner  before,  his 
calm  returning,  he  said: 

"  Let's  talk  of  your  career.  Do  you  know,  I  be- 
lieve you'd  do  big  things !  " 

She  glanced  up  suspiciously,  judging  the  tone  rather 
than  the  words. 

"  You  say  that  because  you  wish  to  get  rid  of  me !  " 
she  said  abruptly. 

He  protested  vehemently  to  the  contrary. 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  would !  I'm  beginning  to  know  you 
and  your  tricks !  But  look  out !  I  warn  you,  you  will 
never  get  rid  of  me!"  She  rose  impatiently.  "I 
don't  like  it  here.  We  do  nothing  but  quarrel. 
Come ! "  Outside  his  automobile  was  waiting. 
"  No,  no ;  let's  walk  a  little.  It's  good  to  be  among 
people  who  are  natural !  " 

"  I  have  a  meeting  I  can  not  put  off  —  at  nine ;  I 
told  you,"  he  said,  irritated  and  impatient  to  be  free. 

It  was  cold,  with  a  sharp,  dry,  exhilarating  sting. 
The  shop-windows  were  set  with  glaring  enticements 
for  the  Christmas  season  —  red  and  green  or  spar- 


296  THE  SALAMANDER 

kling  with  tinsel  and  gold  ornament.  The  sidewalks 
were  alive  with  the  sluggish  loitering  of  a  strange 
people,  Italians,  Germans,  Jews  from  Russia,  negroes 
flowing  in  from  dark  side  streets,  occasional  Irish 
about  the  saloons,  whose  doors  swung  busily ;  but  the 
signs  above  the  shops  were  foreign,  without  trace  of 
the  first  Anglo-Saxon  emigration  which  had  passed  on 
to  the  upper  city. 

Everything  interested  Dore.  She  wished  to  stop  at 
every  window,  mingling  with  the  urchins  and  the  cu- 
rious, prying  into  cellars  whence  the  odor  of  onions 
or  leather  came  to  their  nostrils.  He  yielded  his  arm, 
following  her  whims,  and  yet  unamused.  A  police- 
man saluted  him,  grinning  sympathetically  at  the 
spectacle  of  His  Honor  unbending.  Massingale  did 
not  look  back,  but  he  divined,  with  annoyance,  the 
smile  and  the  interpretation.  All  this  sodden  or  ab- 
ject world,  which  passed  before  his  eyes  day  in  and 
day  out,  with  its  unanswerable  indictments,  its  bottom- 
less misery,  left  on  him  a  very  different  impression. 
He  saw  in  it  the  quicksands  of  life,  where  those  who 
steered  their  course  without  foresight  sometimes  disap- 
peared, closed  over  by  floods  of  mediocrity  and  pov- 
erty. Natural  and  happy?  He  felt  in  it  only  a  hor- 
ror and  a  threat.  On  his  arm  the  touch  of  the  young 
girl  grew  imperiously  heavy,  that  touch  which  stopped 
him  abruptly  or  forced  him  ahead,  unwilling,  bored 
and  reluctant. 

"  I  could  be  happy  here  —  very  happy !  "  she  said 
romantically.  There  was  something  in  this  that  re- 
called the  few  regretted  sides  of  her  early  life.  Sor- 


THE  SALAMANDER  297 

row  was  sorrow,  and  joy  pure  delight,  and  each 
walked  here,  unhesitating  and  unashamed,  unham- 
pered by  little  spying  social  codes  or  the  artifices  of 
manners.  Her  hand  slipped  down  his  arm  to  where 
his  was  plunged  in  his  pocket,  closing  over  it. 

"  It's  wonderful !  So  free,  so  honest!  Don't  you 
adore  the  feeling  ?  " 

"  No !  "  he  said  abruptly.  He  had  been  thinking  of 
a  college  mate  of  his  who  had  broken  through  the  per- 
mitted of  society  and  married  where  he  should  not 
have:  a  forgotten  friend  who  had  dropped  out,  who 
might  have  ended, —  who  knows  ?  —  in  a  howling 
stuffy  flat  in  just  such  a  quarter. 

She  drew  her  hand  impatiently  away. 

"  I  hate  you  to-night !  I  won't  keep  you  any 
longer.  Take  me  home !  " 

In  his  own  automobile,  surrounded  by  the  atmos- 
phere of  things  he  knew  and  enjoyed,  Massingale  felt 
an  easier  mood.  Besides,  her  indifference  and  flashes 
of  temper  always  exercised  a  provocative  effect. 

"  What  a  little  whirligig  you  are,  Dodo,"  he  said, 
laughing.  "  Happy  there  ?  You  wouldn't  last  an 
afternoon!  Besides,  romance  is  one  thing,  but  think 
of  the  dirt!" 

"  You  want  to  antagonize  me ;  you've  done  it  all 
evening !  "  she  said,  drawing  into  her  corner. 

He  defended  himself  lamely,  aware  of  the  truth. 

"  Never  mind !  "  she  added  vindictively.  "  I  shall 
amuse  myself  to-night." 

u  Sassoon  or  Harrigan  Blood  ?  "  he  said,  pinching 
her  ear. 


298  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Perhaps." 

She  refused  to  be  enticed  from  her  offended  dignity. 
When  they  reached  Miss  Pirn's,  contrary  to  his  de- 
termination, he  descended  and  went  up-stairs  with  her, 
seeking,  with  a  quick  pity  in  his  heart,  to  repair  the 
effects  of  his  ill-humor.  Then,  judging  the  moment 
auspicious,  he  began  gravely: 

"  Dodo,  where  is  this  going  to  end?  " 

"  What  ?  Which  ?  "  she  said,  frowning  and  whirl- 
ing about,  as  if  she  had  not  understood. 

He  repeated  the  question  with  even  more  serious- 
ness. 

"  I  want  to  be  genuine !  "  she  said,  stamping  her 
foot.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  dissecting  everything  I  do 
before  I  do  it!  Whatever  comes,  I  want  it  to  come 
without  calculation ! " 

He  groaned  aloud. 

"  Hopeless !     Crazy !     Impossible  child !  " 

"  It's  you  who  are  impossible !  "  she  retorted  hotly. 
"  It's  you  who  are  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other ! 
It's  you  who  back  and  fill !  I  am  honest ;  you're  not ! 
What  are  you  thinking  of  all  the  time  —  your  wife?" 

His  sense  of  decorum  was  shocked. 

"  Dodo,  kindly  leave  my  wife's  name  out  of  the  con- 
versation ! " 

"  And  why  should  I  leave  it  out  ?  "  she  answered 
furiously.  "  She's  the  one  thing  that  comes  between 
us !  I  hate  her !  I  despise  her !  I  could  kill  her !  " 

"Dodo!" 

"  Do  you  love  her  ?    No !     Do  you  care  that  for 


THE  SALAMANDER  299 

her?  No!  Or  she  for  you?  No!  Well,  then,  why 
shouldn't  I  discuss  her?" 

When  she  fell  into  a  passion,  he  no  longer  heard 
what  words  she  said,  fascinated  by  the  impetuosity  of 
the  emotion  that  shook  her  —  man-like,  longing  to 
have  it  translated  into  clinging  in  his  arms.  He  felt 
himself  beaten  in  this  discussion  where  no  logic  was 
possible,  and  he  said  desperately  that  he  would  no 
longer  quibble  or  avoid  issues,  that  he  would  lay  the 
truth  before  her,  and  pronounce  ugly  names.  But,  be- 
fore he  could  venture,  the  telephone  interrupted.  She 
went  to  it  joyfully,  seeking  a  new  means  of  tantaliz- 
ing him. 

He  sought  to  catch  some  inkling  of  the  man  at  the 
other  end,  but  her  ingenuity  evaded  him.  Presently 
she  leaned  out  of  the  hall,  covering  the  mouthpiece 
with  her  hand. 

"  You  are  sure  you  have  to  go  to  that  meeting?  " 
she  said,  in  a  dry  stacCato. 

"Sure!" 

Then  her  voice  rose  again,  answering  the  telephone. 

"Yes,  indeed  — free.  .  .  .  Delighted.  ...  Oh, 
longing  for  a  spree.  .  .  .  How  gorgeous!  How 
soon  ?  "  She  turned,  glancing  at  Massingale. 

He  took  up  his  hat,  answering  with  asperity : 

"Immediately!" 

When  she  returned,  they  stood  eying  each  other, 
rage  in  their  hearts. 

'Thank  heaven,  now  I  shall  enjoy  myself!"  she 
said  abruptly. 


3oo  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  And  who  is  the  gentleman  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Any  one  you  like ;  it's  quite  indifferent  to  me !  " 

"  In  that  case,  good-by !  " 

"  Good-by  — •  good-by !  " 

"  Good !  Now  I  am  free,"  he  thought,  with  a  sud- 
den liberation  of  the  spirit,  resolved  to  make  this  a 
pretext  for  his  emancipation.  He  went  to  the  door, 
but  there  a  little  shame  made  him  halt.  If  this  was 
to  be  the  end,  he  wished  to  leave  behind  a  memory  of 
gentleness  and  courtesy.  He  returned  and  held  out 
his  hand,  saying: 

"  I  have  been  rather  ill-humored  — " 

She  looked  up  at  him  solemnly,  hostility  still  re- 
flected from  his  defensive  antagonism.  They  had  so 
opposed  and  tantalized  each  other  all  evening  that  all 
their  nerves  were  on  edge,  vacillating  toward  a  sud- 
den obliterating  reaction.  He  did  not  take  her  hand ; 
his  arms  instead  clutched  her  whole  body  to  him,  clos- 
ing furiously  over  what  he  had  resisted  futilely  all  the 
day  —  every  day  since  that  first  disorganizing  em- 
brace, until  he  could  resist  no  longer.  Her  arms 
caught  him.  She  gave  a  little  cry  that  ended  on  his 
lips,  her  whole  body  relaxed,  half  turned  and  half 
fallen,  as  he  bent  over  her. 

This  kiss,  wrenched  from  him  at  the  moment  he  felt 
himself  strongest,  obliterating  useless  exasperation  and 
futile  combat,  ended  his  resistance.  From  his  soul 
the  eternal  rebel  cry  of  the  transgressor  went  up : 

"Ah,  I  must  live!" 

The  moments  slipped  by  unheeded,  and  still  he  held 
her,  imprisoned.  All  the  stifled  side  of  his  nature 


THE  SALAMANDER  301 

started  up.  It  seemed  to  him  that  all  the  genuine  in 
his  life  was  in  this  kiss:  the  denied  ardent  self;  the 
young  Massingale  and  the  girl  he  had  adored  in  his 
first  extravagant  passion:  the  Massingale  in  revolt, 
surrendering  to  the  fear  of  the  world,  clasped  in  the 
last  renunciation  with  the  woman  who  might  have 
been — the  past  and  more  than  the  past,  the  present 
and  the  exquisite  pain  of  time,  youth  renounced  and 
youth  fleeting.  He  raised  her,  convulsively  strained 
to  his  breast,  closing  his  eyes,  and  breathing  the  same 
air  that  came  to  her,  as  if  pursuing  on  her  lips  the  last 
precious  dregs  of  a  cup  that  was  almost  drained. 

"  By  heaven,  I've  done  all  I  could !  I'm  not  going 
to  fight  any  more !  "  he  said,  in  a  rage  at  her,  at  him- 
self, at  life. 

And  as,  erect,  he  held  his  head  from  her  the  better 
to  study  the  faint  face,  the  closed  eyes  and  the  parted 
lips,  her  body  swayed  toward  his,  one  arm  wrapping 
about  him,  one  arm  winding  about  his  throat,  the 
fingers  closing  over  his  shoulders  like  the  tendrils  of 
ivy,  that  subtle  feminine  vine  that  fastens  itself  to 
the  monarchs  of  the  forests,  stealing  their  strength. 
Even  in  this  moment  he  felt  in  her  this  fatality,  but  a 
fatality  that  drew  him  recklessly,  gratefully  on. 

All  at  once  she  had  a  sensation  of  fear  —  as  if  the 
victory  were  over  and  another  conflict  were  on.  She 
sought  to  free  herself,  seeking  air  to  breathe,  afraid 
of  herself,  of  these  half  lights,  neither  day  nor  the 
glaring  night,  of  every  vibrant  sense,  warned  by  some 
still  unmastered  instinct  within  her,  that  struggled 
through  the  dizziness  in  her  mind  and  body. 


302  THE  SALAMANDER  . 

She  wrenched  herself  from  him,  springing  behind 
a  table,  and  once  liberated,  feeling  an  instantaneous 
buoyancy  of  triumph.  He  stood  quietly,  breathing 
deep,  locking  and  unlocking  his  hands.  She  stood,  as 
free  as  though  a  canon  separated  them,  watching  him, 
her  hands  folded  poignantly  at  her  throat,  her  body 
leaning  toward  him,  victorious,  mentally  alert. 

"  Oh,  Your  Honor,  Your  Honor,  what's  the  use ! " 
she  cried.  "  You  care  —  you  do  care !  Say  that 
you  care ! " 

His  answer  was  an  exclamation,  inarticulate,  con- 
vincing, a  cry  rather  than  a  word !  The  next  moment, 
transformed,  no  longer  calm,  restrained,  judicial,  but 
tempestuous,  revealing  and  defenseless,  he  stepped 
forward  with  a  threatening  gesture. 

"Dodo,  if  you  are  acting!     If  you — " 

"  Ah,  that's  how  I  like  you !  "  she  cried  rapturously, 
flinging  out  her  arms.  "  No,  no  —  fear  nothing ;  I 
am  not  acting !  You  will  see !  You  will  be  satisfied ! 
When  I  tell  you  my  plan  —  a  wonderful,  beautiful 
plan  —  Only,  first  I  must  be  sure !  " 

She  was  transformed,  radiant;  but  on  her  glowing 
face  and  glorified  eyes  he  saw,  with  a  return  of  in- 
credulity, the  elfish  lights  of  the  dramatizer. 

He  stood  angry,  perplexed,  defiant,  examining  her 
with  distrust.  All  at  once  he  passed  the  table  ab- 
ruptly, caught  her  as  she  sprang  away,  turned  her  in 
his  arms  fiercely,  roughly,  pinned  her  arms  to  her  sides 
furiously,  more  in  anger  than  passion,  covered  her 
cheeks,  her  eyes,  her  lips  with  kisses,  and  suddenly, 
almost  flinging  her  from  him,  rushed  out  of  the  room. 


THE  SALAMANDER  303 

She  rose  from  the  sofa  where  she  had  fallen,  listen- 
ing breathlessly,  a  little  frightened,  satisfied  at  last. 
Then  suddenly  she  ran  to  the  window,  flinging  it 
open,  leaning  out,  happy,  victorious,  eager.  He  did 
not  see  her;  he  was  rushing  down  the  steps  abruptly, 
flinging  himself  into  his  car,  departing  quickly. 

The  reaction  from  all  the  petty  miseries  of  the  spirit 
which  she  had  suffered  in  these  days  of  fencing  and 
resistance  had  been  so  acute  that  she  returned  in  a 
perfect  delirium  of  delight.  Even  the  tragic  shadow 
that  hung  about  it  heightened  the  heroism  of  their  in- 
fatuation. At  last  she  had  shaken  off  the  tentacles  of 
the  dreaded  commonplace.  She  might  suffer;  what 
did  it  matter?  All  her  life  might  pay  for  it;  she  did 
not  care!  It  was  not  an  ordinary  bread-and-butter 
affection.  It  would  be  magnificent,  like  the  great 
loves  of  history,  tragic  but  magnificent!  And  the 
solution  she  had  hinted  of  to  Massingale,  the  end 
which  she  had  imagined  in  her  rornanesque,  runaway 
mind  was  something  that  seemed  so  supremely  great, 
so  extraordinary,  that  she  abandoned  herself  into  its 
misty  vistas  without  doubt  or  hesitation,  radiant,  con- 
vinced. 

"  Ah,  now  I  know  —  now  I  know  what  the  answer 
is!"  she  cried  rapturously.  She  went  to  the  hostile 
window,  shaking  her  fist  at  it  triumphantly :  "  Ugly 
wall,  horrid  wall,  hateful  wall!  You  are  beaten!  I 
am  no  longer  afraid  of  you!  That  for  you!  " 

And  snapping  her  fingers,  laughing  gaily,  she  re- 
turned, whirling  on  her  toes  like  a  child,  crying: 

"  He  cares  —  he  does  care !  " 


304  THE  SALAMANDER 

But  the  moods  into  which  she  had  flung  herself  had 
resulted  in  such  an  intoxication  of  all  her  emotional 
self  that  she  forgot  her  first  resolve  to  remain  quiet. 
She  felt  the  need  of  more  excitement :  lights,  music, 
movement,  noise!  She  was  too  exhilarated,  too 
tensely  throbbing  with  conquest  and  recklessness. 
She  could  never  remain  now  alone  and  still.  She  re- 
solved to  go  out,  for  a  little  while  only,  for  an  hour  or 
so.  On  her  table  was  a  note  from  Lindaberry,  un- 
opened. She  had  seen  it  on  her  first  return.  She  saw 
it  now  in  all  her  whirling  progress  about  the  room, 
imperative,  appealing.  But  did  she  not  go  to  it.  It 
represented  to  her  a  self  that  she  wished  to  avoid  just 
now  —  for  this  bewildering  night  of  senses  and  emo- 
tions. It  was  another  world,  the  world  of  the  hushed 
spaces  and  tranquil  shadows,  where  her  vibrant  the- 
atric self  could  not  rest.  So  she  let  the  letter  lie 
unopened,  fearing  an  imperative  call,  conscience- 
stricken  at  the  neglect  of  these  last  days.  When  she 
returned  at  three  o'clock,  fatigued  at  last,  she  went 
precipitately  to  the  letter,  carrying  it  to  the  gas-jet, 
with  an  uneasy  glance  at  Snyder,  who  was  moving 
restlessly  in  a  dream. 

"Dear  Dodo: 

"  Pretty  tough  going.  Tried  to  get  you  many  times.  What's 
the  matter?  Tried  to  get  you  many  times.  Is  the  bet  off? 
Wouldn't  blame  you.  Will  stop  at  ten  sharp.  At  exactly  ten. 
If  you  could  —  it  would  mean  a  lot.  You  see,  it's  —  well,  it's  a 
backsliding  day  —  at  first,  you  know,  hard  going. 

"  GARRY." 

The  slight  waver  in  the  handwriting,  the  repeated 
stumbling  phrases,  told  her  everything.     In  a  fever  of 


THE  SALAMANDER  305 

remorse  and  self -accusation,  she  flung  herself  on  her 
knees  at  her  bedside,  vowing  that  never  again  would 
she  fail  him,  come  what  might,  resolved  to  run  to  him 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  repair  the  damages 
she  had  selfishly  inflicted.  She  prayed  fervently,  ac- 
cusing herself,  unable  to  control  her  tears.  Snyder, 
in  the  dim  luminous  reflection  from  the  windows,  bolt 
upright  in  her  bed,  watched  her  breathlessly,  unper- 
ceived. 

The  next  morning,  when,  after  vain  calls  at  the  tele- 
phone, she  went  to  Lindaberry's  apartments,  the  jani- 
tor, with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  informed  her  that 
he  had  not  returned.  It  was  not  unusual :  sometimes 
he  was  gone  for  four  days,  a  week  —  God  knew 
where ! 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DAYS  passed  without  word  of  Lindaberry,  and 
the  fear  of  what  might  have  happened  was  never 
absent  from  Dore.  Other  anxieties  crowded  in  on 
her.  One  day  she  suddenly  perceived  that  the  bi- 
weekly basket  of  champagne  from  Mr.  Peavey  was 
three  days  overdue.  She  had  heard  little  of  him  be- 
yond the  brief  answers  to  her  punctual  acknowledg- 
ments, nor  had  she  availed  herself  often  of  the  opera 
tickets,  turning  them  over  to  Winona,  Ida  Summers, 
or  Estelle  Monks.  The  automobile  had  been  needed 
rarely,  her  entire  absorption  in  Massingale  leaving  her 
little  time.  Once  or  twice  Ida  had  repeated  her  mys- 
terious hints  as  to  Winona  and  trespassing,  but,  ob- 
sessed by  the  fever  of  new  and  strong  emotions,  she 
had  paid  little  heed. 

All  at  once  this  warning  returned  with  a  new  sug- 
gestion. Had  Winona,  whom  she  had  introduced  to 
Mr.  Peavey,  been  trying  to  supplant  her?  She  went 
directly  to  Ida  Summers,  surprising  her  by  the  de- 
termination of  her  manner: 

"  Ida,  is  Winona  trying  to  cut  me  out  with  Mr. 
Peavey?" 

The  look  on  the  girl's  face  told  her  the  truth  of  her 
guess. 

"  How  far  has  it  gone  ?  What  do  you  know  ? 
Tell  me  everything!" 

306 


THE  SALAMANDER  307 

"  I  have  seen  them  at  the  theater  together,  at  a 
restaurant  once  or  twice." 

"When?     Lately?" 

"  No ;  when  you  were  in  Buffalo  .  .  .  ' 

"Alone?" 

"Yes!" 

"But  since  I  have  been  back?     Think!     Be  sure! " 

"  I  am  not  sure,  Do,"  said  Ida  slowly.  "  Lord ! 
don't  look  as  if  you'd  eat  me  up!  " 

"  But  you  think  — " 

"  I  think  he  took  her  to  the  opera  Monday  night." 

Dodo  returned  to  her  room  in  a  rage.  She  divined 
at  once  the  cleverness  of  the  stroke.  Each  time  she 
had  given  Winona  her  seats,  the  girl  had  called  up 
Mr.  Peavey  as  an  escort  —  thus,  even  without  a  word, 
convincing  him  how  lightly  his  presents  were  held. 
How  far  had  Winona  gone?  She  remembered  now 
that  since  her  return  she  had  hardly  seen  her.  Had 
Winona  been  deliberately  avoiding  her?  Was  she 
playing  to  marry  Mr.  Peavey?  Had  she  gone  so  far 
even  as  to  tell  him  of  the  true  uses  to  which  his  pres- 
ents were  put? 

Dodo,  who  was  generosity  itself,  had  also,  when  her 
sense  of  injustice  was  aroused,  unfathomed  depths  of 
hatred  and  vindictiveness.  Winona,  to  whom  she  had 
opened  her  slender  purse  a  dozen  times,  whom  she  had 
placed  with  Blainey  at  the  moment  of  her  despair  — 
Winona,  of  all  the  world,  to  betray  her!  She  called 
up  the  garage  and  asked  for  Brennon  immediately. 
From  him  she  would  get  some  information.  Then, 
without  knocking,  she  entered  Winona's  room.  She 


3o8  THE  SALAMANDER 

was  not  there.  Dore,  restless  and  suspicious,  ex- 
amined the  mantel  and  the  table,  halting  before  three 
vases  of  gorgeous  American  Beauty  roses. 

"Can  these  be  from  Peavey?  That's  not  like 
him !  "  she  thought,  wrinkling  her  forehead. 

On  a  table  was  a  present  newly  arrived,  a  cabinet  of 
different  perfumes,  in  red  morocco  and  silver.  There 
was  a  card  still  on  the  top :  "  Penniston  Schwartz." 

"  Don't  know  him,"  Dore  thought,  forgetting  Ida's 
story  of  the  dinner.  She  continued  her  examination. 
On  the  bureau  were  several  bits  of  silver  that  she  did 
not  remember  seeing  before ;  in  the  closet  a  new  gown 
or  two;  but  in  all  this  no  note  of  Peavey.  What  she 
was  seeking  was  a  basket  of  champagne,  and  though 
she  sought  under  the  lounge  and  the  bed  and  in  the 
dark  recesses  of  the  wardrobe,  she  found  no  trace. 

Nevertheless,  her  anger  did  not  abate.  Winona  had 
betrayed  her:  she  would  strike  at  once,  and  deep. 
She  would  go  to  Blainey  and  make  a  personal  request 
for  the  part  she  had  procured  for  the  ingrate.  When 
Brennon  arrived,  she  remained  a  moment  talking  with 
him.  Her  confidence  had  solidified  itself  in  him 
lately ;  from  many  things,  she  was  certain  that  he  was 
her  ally,  that  she  could  trust  him. 

"  Brennon,"  she  said  directly,  "  is  Mr.  Peavey  in 
town  ?  " 

"  Left  this  morning." 

"Then  he's  been  back?     How  long?" 

"  Three  or  four  days,  Miss  Baxter." 

"  Has  he  seen  my  friend,  Miss  Horning,  much?  " 

He  nodded  energetically. 


THE  SALAMANDER  309 

"  Look  here,  Miss  Baxter,"  he  said,  with  a  sly  im- 
portant look,  "  been  wanting  to  slip  you  a  pointer 
for  some  time.  She's  not  your  friend.  Danger 
ahead !  Look  out !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Brennon  ?  "  Dore  said  con- 
fidentially. "  I  wish  you'd  speak  out !  Mr.  Peavey's 
been  to  see  her  a  good  deal,  hasn't  he?  " 

"  No ;  but  she's  seen  him !  She's  a  sly  one  — 
clever,  too ;  wouldn't  risk  his  coming  here !  " 

"  Has  she  talked  against  me  ?  What  has  she 
said?" 

"  We  know  what  the  governor's  like,  you  and  I, 
eh  ?  "  he  said,  with  an  impertinence  that  she  did  not 
notice,  in  her  distraction.  "  Well,  she  plays  the  quiet 
game  —  home  talking,  family  type."  He  leaned  for- 
ward, looking  at  her  directly :  "  See  here !  This  is 
straight.  If  you've  got  your  mind  fixed  in  the  gov- 
ernor's direction,  better  grab  him  now !  " 

"What  has  she  said  about  me?"  Dore  said  anx- 
iously Then,  suddenly :  "  Has  he  asked  you  any 
questions?  Where  I  go?  Whom  I  see?" 

He  nodded,  laughing. 

"  Sure  he  does  —  every  time !  Look  here !  He's 
one  of  those  kinds  you've  got  to  snake  with  salt  on 
their  tails.  But  he  got  nothing  out  of  me!  Trust 
this  old  fox  for  that !  I  like  to  see  a  pretty  girl  have 
her  fling  as  well  as  a  man !  " 

"  Thank  you,  Brennon,"  she  said,  without  much  at- 
tention, entering  the  car. 

When  she  reached  Blainey's  office,  she  was  forced 
to  wait  some  time,  Sada  Quichy  being  in  conference 


3io  THE  SALAMANDER 

with  the  manager.  The  Red  Prince  had  made  an 
enormous  success,  and  the  diva  had  leaped  into  in- 
stant popularity.  Of  a  consequence,  Blainey,  who 
had  treated  her  with  abrupt  tolerance  on  the  night  of 
the  dress  rehearsal,  now  accorded  her  the  honors  due 
to  royalty.  At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he 
appeared  at  the  door,  according  her  the  favor  of  a 
personal  escort,  which  she,  comedian  herself,  repaid 
with  an  extra  languishing  adieu,  each  sublimely  indif- 
ferent to  the  motley  audience  of  actors,  agents,  au- 
thors and  musicians  who  assisted  respectfully  at  this 
sport  of  the  gods. 

Blainey  perceived  Dore,  and  giving  her  the  prefer- 
ence with  a  curt  bob  of  his  head,  reentered  his  den. 
There  was  in  the  gesture  something  unusually  abrupt 
that  struck  her.  When  she  followed  him  into  the 
room,  this  impression  was  reinforced  by  the  evident 
atmosphere  of  ill-humor. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Blainey?  "  she  asked 
directly. 

He  turned  —  hostility  in  every  movement  —  fling- 
ing himself  back  into  his  chair,  cocking  his  cigar  in 
the  corner  of  his  mouth,  running  his  hands  into  the 
arm-pits  of  his  vest,  frowning,  determined. 

"See  here,  kid,  it's  no  go!  Don't  start  anything! 
You've  worked  me  for  a  sucker  once!  .  .  .  Thanks; 
I've  retired  from  charity  committees !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     I  don't  understand !  " 

"  Ain't  you  come  here  to  get  me  to  take  back  that 
stuffed  doll  you  panned  off  on  me  ?  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  311 

"  Take  back !  "  she  cried,  amazed.  "  You  mean  to 
say  Homing's  fired  ?  " 

"  Come  off !  "  he  said,  grinning. 

"  Honest,  Blainey,  I  didn't  know !     Since  when  ?  " 

"Ten  days.  Say,  she  was  fierce!  I  wouldn't 
trust  her  to  carry  a  spear!  The  next  time  you  try 
to  work  me,  kid,  on  the  charity  racket,  just  pick  my 
pockets.  It'll  save  time !  " 

"  Horning  fired ! "  she  repeated,  suddenly  fur- 
nished with  a  clue  to  all  that  had  happened. 

"  Clever  kid ! "  he  said,  watching  her  apprecia- 
tively. "  You  don't  have  to  be  taught !  " 

"  Honest,  Blainey,  I  didn't  know !  " 

"What  you  come  here  for?" 

"  I  came  to  get  you  to  bounce  her,"  she  said. 
"That's  straight!" 

He  gave  a  long  delighted  whistle. 

"  Cripes !  Why,  pussy's  got  claws !  You  don't 
say!  What's  she  been  up  to?  Crossing  the  heart 
line?"  he  added,  possessed  always  with  the  idea  that 
he  had  divined  the  cause  of  her  troubles. 

"  No.     Tried  to  double-cross  me  with  a  friend  - 
but  one  that  counted!     However,  if  she's  bounced, 
all  right !     No  need  to  bother  you !  " 

"  No  hurry,  no  hurry,  kid!  "  he  said,  with  profound 
disdain  for  the  forty-odd  clamorers  in  the  outer  pur- 
gatory. "  Don't  get  a  chance  to  look  you  over  often. 
Well,  how's  the  heart?  " 

She  laughed. 

"Better!" 


312  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  What's  that  mean  —  worse  ?  " 

"Perhaps!" 

He  shifted  his  cigar. 

"  Better  get  to  work !  " 

"  Be  patient !  "  she  said,  shaking  her  curls.  "  Only 
three  months  more !  " 

"Hein?" 

"  The  tenth  of  March  is  when  my  season  closes ! " 

"Honest?" 

"Quite  so!" 

"You'll  begin  to  work?" 

"  Either  that,  or  other  things !  "  she  said  provok- 
ingly. 

"What  other  things?" 

"Oh,  I  might  marry!" 

He  snorted  with  rage.  Then,  drawing  his  calen- 
dar to  him,  he  turned  ahead. 

"  March  ten,  eh  ?  "  He  paused,  and  put  a  big  cross 
on  the  day  before.  "  I'd  like  an  option  of  the  ninth 
myself!" 

"How  so?" 

"  Let  me  discuss  a  little  contract  with  you  before 
you  come  to  any  other  decision.  What  do  you  say? 
Promise ! " 

She  laughed.  She  had  no  illusions  in  her  mind  as 
to  the  nature  of  what  he  might  propose. 

"Listen  to  what  I've  in  mind  before  you  close  any- 
where else !  "  he  persisted. 

"All  right,  Blainey!" 

He  rose,  dragging  himself  up  from  his  chair. 

"  Heavens,  Blainey,  do  I  get  the  honors  of  Sada 


THE  SALAMANDER  313 

Quichy  ?  "  she  said,  laughing,  as  she  perceived  his  in- 
tention was  to  accompany  her  to  the  outer  door. 

"  Come  to  me,  kid,  when  you  need  a  tip  or  for  any- 
thing else !  "  he  said  quietly.  He  put  out  his  stumpy 
hand,  tapping  her  shoulder.  "  I'd  like  to  do  a  lot  for 
you — 'know  that,  don't  you?  All  right!  Good 
luck!" 

She  gave  him  a  quick  pressure  of  her  hand  and 
went  out.  The  atmosphere  of  the  theater  always  im- 
pressed her,  throwing  her  other  life  into  futile  out- 
lines. Here  was  something  definite  —  the  satisfac- 
tion of  a  purpose,  the  reality  of  work.  And  as  she 
returned,  thinking  of  Massingale,  of  the  wild  romance 
she  had  created  for  themselves,  she  felt  more  and 
more  drawn  to  a  career.  A  woman  who  achieved 
things,  who  had  even  a  trace  of  genius,  had  a  right, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  to  her  own  life,  to  be  judged 
differently. 

The  news  she  had  received  of  Winona  doubled  her 
suspicions.  If  this  chance  had  failed  the  girl,  no 
wonder  that  she  had  set  herself  deliberately  toward  a 
marriage  with  Peavey.  Dodo  was  wildly  indignant 
at  this  double  dealing.  She  considered  the  least  of 
her  admirers  her  inviolate  property,  and  she  never 
saw  one  desert  without  a  feeling  of  resentment.  In 
Peavey's  case  it  was  thrice  blameworthy,  considering 
all  the  prodigies  of  planning  she  had  spent  to  bring 
him  to  the  point  and  maintain  him  in  the  status  quo. 
For  Peavey  was  in  truth,  as  Judge  Massingale  had 
laughingly  expressed  it,  the  "  man  behind  the  rock," 
and  even  in  the  wildest  flights  of  her  imagination  she 


314  THE  SALAMANDER 

retained,  unconsciously,  a  prudent  spirit  toward  the 
uncharted  future.  She  might  fly  in  the  face  of  soci- 
ety, and  then,  again,  at  the  last,  she  might  not  find  in 
herself  all  the  audacity  she  desired  to  believe  in. 
Peavey  was  a  bridge  back  into  conventionality,  se- 
curity and  certain  necessary  luxuries  which  she  never 
for  a  moment,  in  her  thrifty  mind,  intended  to  neg- 
lect. 

As  soon  as  she  reached  her  room,  she  sat  down  to 
write  to  him.  This  letter  called  for  her  deepest  intu- 
ition; it  was  a  very  difficult  letter  to  compose.  She 
tried  a  dozen  methods,  rejecting  each  as  too  obvious. 
In  the  midst  of  her  labors,  Josephus,  to  her  surprise, 
arrived  with  the  basket  of  champagne,  which, 
strangely  enough,  it  appeared,  had  been  below,  for- 
got, all  this  time.  This  at  once  relieved  her,  and  sug- 
gested a  bold  stroke.  She  wrote: 

"Dear  Mr.  Peavey: 

"  Thank  you  for  the  champagne.  Certain  things  which  have 
come  to  my  knowledge  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  accept  any 
more  such  favors  from  you.  Indeed,  I  reproach  myself  for  what 
I  have  permitted  in  the  past.  But  I  have  always  had  a  different 
feeling  about  you,  a  real  respect  and  trust,  and  I  have  always 
believed  in  you  as  an  ideal  of  what  a  gentleman  should  be.  I 
am  very  disappointed  —  very  sad. 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  DOR£  BAXTER. 

"  P.  S.  I  thank  you  also  for  your  automobile,  which  I  shall 
never  use  again. 

"  P.  P.  S.    I  return  the  remaining  tickets  to  the  opera." 

She  studied  this,  well  content  with  its  indefinite  re- 
proach. 


THE  SALAMANDER  315 

"  There ;  he  will  believe  I  know  more  than  I  know," 
she  said,  with  a  bob  of  her  head,  "  and  he  will  have 
to  come  to  me  in  person.  That  is  better !  " 

Once  Mr.  Peavey  was  before  her  eyes,  she  had  no 
doubt  of  the  interview.  She  posted  the  letter  imme- 
diately, telephoned  again  without  being  able  to  re- 
ceive any  news  of  Lindaberry,  and  went  out  to  shop 
for  Christmas  presents  for  each  of  her  score  of  ad- 
mirers—  presents  which  she  would  see  were  care- 
fully delivered  to  their  destinations  by  three  o'clock 
on  the  preceding  day.  For  a  month  she  had  care- 
fully gone  over  her  acquaintances,  much  as  a  fisher- 
man overhauls  his  nets,  consecrating  hours  at  the  tele- 
phone, fanning  back  into  substantial  flames  little 
sparks  of  intimacy  that  were  sinking  into  gray  for- 
get fulness.  She  did  not  throw  herself  into  such 
machinations  with  any  relish,  but  as  a  necessity  forced 
upon  her;  yet,  once  embarked,  she  did  nothing  by 
halves.  She  lunched,  motored,  descended  for  tea, 
dined,  dipped  into  theaters  and  danced  without  a  rest. 
She  even  revived  the  hopes  of  Harrigan  Blood  and 
Sassoon  by  a  few  discreet  concessions  —  matinee 
performances,  tea  at  five,  or  an  innocuous  luncheon. 

With  Massingale  she  was  still  far  from  that 
moment  when  she  could  distinguish  the  man  who  was 
from  the  romantic  ideal  her  imagination  had  visual- 
ized. After  the  second  meeting  in  her  rooms, 
when  she  had  a  second  time  reached  the  man  in  the 
raw,  each,  as  if  by  mutual  consent,  had  avoided  fur- 
ther opportunities  of  dangerous  intimacy,  each  a  bit 
apprehensive.  But  the  conflict  between  them  contin- 


316  THE  SALAMANDER 

ued.  There  were  moments  when  he  seemed  to  aban- 
don his  attitude  of  incredulity,  relaxing  into  humor- 
ous or  confidential  moods,  and  others  when  he  seemed 
to  be  flinging  barricades  between  them.  If  he 
had  planned  deliberately  to  seduce  her  (which  God 
knows  he  hadn't!)  he  could  have  adopted  no  more 
adroit  means  than  this  intermittent  opposition  which 
rose  from  the  struggle  in  his  own  conscience.  She 
could  not  brook  the  slightest  resistance  in  him.  It 
roused  in  her  a  passion  for  subjugation,  an  instinct 
for  reprisals  which  sought  insistently  to  reverse  the 
original  roles. 

In  the  moments  of  these  half-hearted  retreats  he 
adopted  a  policy  of  far-off  analysis,  putting  questions 
with  impersonal  directness,  inviting  her  into  indis- 
creet confidences.  She  divined  that  all  this  curiosity 
had  one  instinctive  object  —  to  discover  something  in 
her  harum-scarum  present  or  devious  past  that  could 
roughly  and  effectively  repel  him.  At  such  times  she 
responded  with  a  violent  antagonism,  paying  him 
back  in  coin,  tantalizing  him,  inventing  stories  to 
plague  him,  and  always  succeeding.  Once  she  said  to 
him: 

"You  know  Sassoon's  getting  reckless.  Look  out! 
Some  day  I'll  disappear !  " 

He  chuckled,  inciting  her  on. 

"  You  needn't  laugh !  I'm  serious  —  he's  serious, 
too.  Where  do  you  think  I  went  this  afternoon? 
To  look  at  a  house.  Oh,  the  loveliest  little  house,  a 
little  jewel-box  —  within  a  stone's-throw  of  you,  too; 


THE  SALAMANDER  317 

and  everything  beautifully  furnished,  wonderful 
rugs,  bedrooms  in  old  red  brocade,  like  a  palace ! " 
She  continued  with  an  account  of  details,  warming  up 
to  the  part :  "  Sassoon  began  by  talking  apartments. 
But  I  killed  that  quickly.  Entirely  too  common !  " 

"  But  the  house  ?  "  he  said,  forcing  a  smile. 

"  Only  one  thing  lacking ;  yes,  and  I  told  him  so  at 
once  —  flat,  like  that !  " 

"What?" 

"No  garage!" 

He  affected  to  laugh  hugely  at  this  bit  of  fiction. 

When  he  sought  to  explore  her  history  she  was 
ready  with  another  artfully  contrived  story  to  infuri- 
ate him: 

"My  life?  Oh,  it's  terribly  exciting!  Father 
was  a  gambler  —  Mississippi  River,  mining-camps  and 
all  sorts  of  dangerous  places.  Mother  was  in  the 
circus,  bareback  riding  —  hoops,  you  know.  They 
separated  when  I  was  five;  had  a  terrible  fight,  they 
say.  I  went  around  with  the  circus,  in  the  proces- 
sions, dressed  as  a  star.  Mother  was  teaching  me  the 
tight-rope;  I'd  learned  a  bit  of  acrobating,  too. 
There  was  a  funny  old  clown." 

She  stopped,  with  a  far-off  pensive  look.  When 
she  invented  a  story  she  had  a  natural  gift  for  dra- 
matic detail.  She  said  very  sadly,  as  if  conjuring  up 
the  figure  of  a  mournful  child,  sinking  her  voice  to  a 
whisper : 

"  My  mother  drank.  When  she  was  in  her 
tantrums  she  was  very  cruel  to  me  —  she  beat  me !  I 


3i8  THE  SALAMANDER 

remember  my  poor  little  arms  and  legs  all  blistered 
and  smarting!  Then  I  used  to  run  to  Jocko  —  that 
was  the  funny  old  clown's  name.  He  had  three  col- 
ors in  his  hair,  red,  white  and  brown  —  all  natural, 
too !  Jocko  used  to  put  a  poultice  on  my  wounds  and 
give  me  candy.  I  loved  old  Jocko;  he  taught  me  the 
back-somersault,  too.  Then  mother  ran  off  with  a 
dentist  —  one  of  the  kind  that  travel  around  in  a 
band-wagon  from  village  to  village,  teeth-pullers,  you 
know,  and  whenever  a  tooth  is  to  be  taken  out  the 
bass-drum  goes  off  bang!  so  you  don't  notice  the  pain. 
The  dentist  hated  me!  He  was  a  horribly  tall,  long 
man  with  a  broken  nose.  I  can  see  him  leering  down 
at  me  like  an  ogre  and  saying: 

"  '  Soon  as  you  get  your  second  teeth,  little  brat, 
I'll  make  a  fine  set  out  of  'em,  worth  seventy  plunks 
at  the  least.  Just  you  wait ! ' 

"  He  used  to  pinch  me  and  box  my  ears  when 
mother  wasn't  looking !  " 

She  considered  this  phase  thoughtfully,  satisfied 
that  she  had  done  it  justice,  and  said  suddenly: 

"  Then,  one  night,  father  turned  up.  Whew !  that 
was  a  scene!  He  came  up  suddenly  just  as  Crouch 

—  that's  the  dentist  —  had  finished  with  the  cymbals 
and  was  beginning: 

"  '  Ladies  and  gentlemjen,  I  come  not  to  take  your 
hard-earned  money,  but  to  do  you  good ! ' 

"  He  always  began  like  that.     I  can  see  it  all  now 

—  the    kerosene    lamps    flaring    below,    the    country 
crowd  standing  around,  gaping,  and  all  of  a  sudden  a 
Spanish-looking  man,   broad-shouldered,   pushing  his 


THE  SALAMANDER  319 

way  violently  through  them  all,  and  then  mother 
shrieking : 

"  '  My  God !  Crouch,  it's  Baxter ! '  " 

She  drew  a  quick  breath;  the  recital  had  made  her 
tremble  a  little.  He  watched  her  closely,  with  that 
lantern  stare  with  which  he  transfixed  the  accused  at 
the  bar,  amazed  at  her  exhibition,  incredulous,  and 
yet  with  a  lingering  wonder. 

"  Mother  got  away,"  she  said,  resuming.  "  Crouch 
was  laid  up  in  a  hospital  for  months,  they  told  me. 
Father  took  me  with  him.  He  was  very  kind,  very; 
but  it  was  a  terrible  life;  rough  company,  squabbling 
and  shooting,  no  home,  no  rest,  always  taking  French 
leave!  Then  he  struck  a  run  of  luck  and  made 
enough  to  strike  for  Gold  Fields  and  open  a  saloon  — 
faro  at  the  back.  Gold  Fields  was  worse.  Every 
one  drunk  by  eight  o'clock  at  night;  poker  and  faro 
until  breakfast!" 

"  And  you  saw  all  that?  "  he  said  gravely. 

"  Yes,  all ! "  she  said  simply,  shaking  her  head. 
"  Father  dressed  me  up  in  red  slippers  and  white 
stockings,  red  dress  and  mantilla,  and  rigged  up  a 
flower-booth  for  me  —  said  it  brought  custom.  And 
there  I  had  to  sit,  so  tired  and  sleepy,  with  all  the  vile 
tobacco  smoke,  and  the  men  —  black,  red  and  white 
—  shouting  and  singing.  Once  or  twice  I  fell 
asleep." 

All  at  once,  as  if  groping  in  the  dark,  her  hand  had 
at  last  found  the  door,  she  said  abruptly: 

"  But  one  night  a  Mexican  tried  to  kiss  me,  and 
father  shot  him.  He  fell  across  my  counter,  grabbing 


320  THE  SALAMANDER 

at  me.  It  was  awful !  The  next  night  father  was 
called  to  the  side  entrance,  and  when  we  found  him 
there  was  a  knife  in  his  back,  and  he  was  dead! " 

She  rose. 

"What,  you're  going  to  leave  me  there,  Dodo?" 
he  said  maliciously,  forcing  a  smile.  "  You're  worse 
than  a  dime  novel !  " 

"  That's  enough  for  now.  It  tires  me !  The  rest 
for  another  time,"  she  answered.  "  Now  you  can 
understand  all  that  happened  after, —  I  never  had  half 
a  chance!  " 

The  next  time  she  began  all  over  again,  saying: 

"  My  real  story  is  much  more  terrible.  Now,  this 
is  the  truth !  " 

These  inventions  usually  started  from  her  insist- 
ence on  discussing  his  wife  with  Massingale.  She 
had  an  imperative  curiosity,  which  always  shocked 
his  sense  of  delicacy,  to  hear  him  criticize  her,  to  ad- 
mit her  faults,  even  to  drop  a  hint  that  there  might 
be  other  men  —  that,  in  fact,  she  lived  her  own  life; 
which  would  mean,  to  Dodo's  illogical  need  of  self- 
justification,  that  he  also  had  the  right.  But  Massin- 
gale curtly,  peremptorily  refused  to  be  drawn  into 
such  discussions.  Whereupon  a  coolness  arose,  and 
she  sought  to  annoy  him  by  pretended  pasts.  He 
knew  that  she  was  embroidering,  and  yet  the  very 
facility  of  it  amazed  him.  The  past  was  one  thing: 
he  did  not  like  her  references  to  Sassoon  and  Blood 
and  what  they  implied,  even  though  he  was  sure  it  was 
specially  fabricated  for  his  confusion. 

So,  as  soon  as  peace  had  been  restored,  he  always 


THE  SALAMANDER  321 

pressed  her  for  a  denial.  Whereupon  with  a  laugh, 
after  some  coaxing,  she  would  admit  the  fiction.  But 
the  moment  the  next  cause  of  conflict  came,  she  was 
always  quits  by  turning  on  him  and  declaring: 

"You  know  all  I  told  you?  Well,  half  of  it  was 
true!" 

At  the  end  of  the  week  she  received  an  answer  from 
Mr.  Peavey.  Contrary  to  custom,  it  was  not  type- 
written, but  performed  in  his  minute  and  regular 
hand: 

"Dear  Miss  Baxter: 

"  Your  letter  has  caused  me  the  utmost  pain.  Please  do  not,  I 
beg  you,  judge  me  by  appearances !  I  'have  found,  to  my  cost, 
that  I  have  been  greatly  misled  in  the  character  of  a  person  I 
trusted.  I  must  see  you  and  explain  everything.  I  am  now  in 
the  Middle  West.  I  shall  be  able  to  run  over  to  New  York  for 
five  hours  on  Thursday  next,  and  shall  advise  you.  Believe  me, 
this  is  the  first  opportunity  I  can  make. 

"Your  devoted  friend, 

"O.  B.  PEAVEY." 

s 

She  had  found  this  letter,  on  entering,  in  the  pile 
of  mail  that  always  accumulated  on  the  hall  seat,  and 
had  read  it  standing  in  the  hall.  She  sought  for 
other  letters,  and  suddenly  encountered  one  that  made 
her  halt  with  surprise.  It  was  in  Mr.  Peavey's  hand- 
writing, and  addressed  to  Miss  Winona  Horning. 
She  took  it  and  went  up-stairs.  Winona  was  in  her 
room,  looking  up  a  little  startled  at  Dore's  determined 
interruption. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  letter ! "  she  said  very 
quietly. 


322  THE  SALAMANDER 

The  girl  took  it,  glanced  at  it,  but  did  not  raise  her 
eyes. 

"  Read  it,  why  don't  you  ?  " 

Winona  Horning  opened  the  letter  and  read  slowly 

—  once,  then  a  second  time.     Then,  without  a  word 
or  a  raising  of  her  glance,  carefully  and  scrupulously 
tore  it  into  bits. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  to  me?  "  said  Dore  in 
a  hard  voice,  triumphant. 

Winona  did  not  raise  her  eyes.  From  the  first, 
she  had  not  met  Dodo's  glance.  She  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, opening  and  shutting  the  case  of  red  morocco, 
shifting  the  card,  that  lay  too  exposed.  Then  her 
shoulder  rose  defiantly: 

"No,  nothing!     What's  the  use  of  words?" 

Dodo  remained  a  moment,  enjoying  her  defeat, 
waiting  an  overt  act,  ready  to  blaze  forth.  But,  Wi- 
nona continuing  inert  and  unresisting,  she  turned  on 
her  heel,  with  a  final  scornful  glance,  and  went  to  her 
room. 

"  There's  one  thing,  at  least,  she'll  never  be,"  she 
thought  to  herself,  "Mrs.  Orlando  B.  Peavey!" 

Had  she  known  then  just  what  had  transpired  be- 
tween the  bachelor  and  the  girl  who  shared  the  dingy 
wall  with  her,  she  would  have  been  even  more  amazed 

—  and  perhaps  a  little  inclined  to  make  allowances. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

SNYDER'S  attitude  during  this  tumultuous  time 
was  exceedingly  puzzling  to  Dodo.  She  seemed 
fairly  to  haunt  the  rooms,  arriving  at  the  most 
unexpected  moments,  remaining  determinedly  camped 
on  her  trunk  by  the  window,  endlessly  silent  and  im- 
mersed in  reading.  Betty  came  often  now  in  the  late 
morning,  or  toward  six  o'clock,  hours  when  Dodo 
was  sure  to  be  at  home.  Dore  had  a  passionate  af- 
fection for  children,  and  remained  for  hours  on  the 
floor,  romping  boisterously,  or  with  Betty  in  her  lap, 
brown  curls  against  her  golden  ones,  exploring  end- 
less enchanted  realms.  Once  or  twice  in  the  fairy 
twilight,  when  eyelids  had  gone  nodding,  overbur- 
dened with  wonder  and  long  listening,  and  she  felt 
the  warm  flesh  of  tiny  fingers  clinging  to  her  neck, 
she  had  waited,  cramped  and  motionless,  subjugated 
in  a  soft  tyranny,  glowingly  happy  and  at  peace.  At 
other  moments,  with  the  little  body  pressed  against 
her  own,  encircling  arms  and  childish  kisses  awoke  in 
her  a  sudden  famine,  poignant  even  as  the  emotion 
that  flowed  through  her  when  Massingale  had  held 
her  in  his  arms. 

But  Snyder  she  could  not  understand.  She  paid 
no  attention  either  to  Dodo  or  to  the  child,  keeping 
always  aloof,  always  with  averted  eyes.  This  indif- 

323 


324  THE  SALAMANDER 

ference  revolted  Dodo.  How  could  any  one  care  so 
little  for  a  child  so  young,  so  soft  and  so  clinging!  In 
her  heart  she  resented  it  as  something  inhuman  and 
incomprehensible,  until  suddenly,  one  day,  her  eyes 
were  opened. 

Their  great  enemy,  the  clock,  had  stolen  around  to 
the  inexorable  hour,  and  Snyder  had  announced  the 
moment  of  farewells  by  starting  from  the  trunk  with 
a  loud  closing  of  her  book. 

"Time  up!" 

A  cry  from  Betty,  and  a  convulsive  closing  of  arms 
about  the  protector. 

"What!  already?"  said  Dodo,  with  a  sigh,  coming 
back  unwillingly  from  a  painless  world  of  dreams. 

"Past  time!" 

"Just  five  minutes  more!" 

"Dodo!" 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  she  said,  with  a  last  protesting  hug. 
"What  a  dreadful  mother  you  have,  Betty!  How 
would  you  like  to  change  mothers,  young  lady?  " 

A  giggle  of  delight  and  a  furious  nod  of  assent. 

"  I'll  be  your  mother,  and  you  can  come  and  stay 
here  all  the  day  and  all  the  night,  and  then  there'll 
be  nothing  but  dolls  and  fairies  and  good  things  to 
eat  all  the  time !  What  do  you  say  ?  Will  you  come 
and  be  my  little  girl  forever  and  ever  and  ever  after?  " 

She  had  begun  in  a  light  tone,  and  had  insensibly 
drifted  into  a  tender  note,  hushed  and  with  a  touch 
of  real  longing.  All  at  once  she  looked  up,  startled. 
Snyder  had  snatched  the  child  from  her  —  Snyder  as 


THE  SALAMANDER  325 

she  had  never  seen  her  before,  towering,  with  tor- 
tured eyes,  stung  to  the  quick. 

"  Why,  Snyder ! "  she  began.  But  the  woman 
turned  away  quickly,  with  a  murmur,  gone  before  she 
knew  it. 

She  was  startled  at  this  incomprehensible  revela- 
tion. "What?  She's  jealous!  Snyder  jealous! 
But  then,  why  does  she  act  so  indifferently  to  Betty  ?  " 
she  thought,  amazed. 

Still  other  things  puzzled  her  about  her  taciturn 
room-mate  —  one  thing  in  particular.  Whenever 
Massingale  came,  Snyder  was  sure  to  appear,  hostility 
writ  openly  on  her  direct  eyes.  Dodo  almost  believed 
that  she  had  instituted  an  espionage. 

For  Massingale  came  in  often  now  to  her  room 
after  the  close  of  the  court.  She  had  found,  with  a 
new  rebellion,  that  there  were  bars  beyond  which  she 
could  not  penetrate  into  his  life,  and  much  as  she 
scorned  the  conventionalities,  she  found  that  on  cer- 
tain points  she  could  not  move  him.  In  public  places 
where  they  were  apt  to  meet  his  world  he  refused  to 
take  her  unless  a  third  was  provided.  When  she  de- 
claimed he  answered  abruptly: 

"  I  am  a  public  man ;  you  don't  understand." 

And  he  flattered  himself  that  on  this  side,  his  pub- 
lic life,  he  would  always  be  immovable,  no  matter  what 
disorder  she  might  exercise  over  the  rest  of  his  ex- 
istence. This  brought  her  a  strange  feeling  of  being 
outlawed,  of  standing  beyond  the  pale.  She  resented 
it  fiercely,  not  realizing,  perhaps,  how  much  she 


326  THE  SALAMANDER 

cared,  turning  her  anger  against  society,  vowing  ven- 
geance, more  and  more  determined  to  flout  and  af- 
front it.  Denied  complete  liberty  to  participate  in  his 
life,  she  had  resolved  to  bring  him  into  hers.  He 
agreed  readily  to  meet  her  friends,  seeing  in  this  a 
way  to  save  appearances.  Ida  Summers  amused  him, 
but  it  was  Estelle  Monks  who  interested  him  most. 

Like  most  women  of  advanced  ideas,  she  held  her 
opinions,  not  so  much  as  convictions,  but  as  a  sort 
of  revealed  truth  which  it  was  her  duty  to  spread; 
and  she  was  determined  to  inflict  them  on  her  listen- 
ers, crushing  out  all  disbelief,  restless  and  unhappy 
before  opposition.  To  her,  marriage  was  the  arch- 
enemy. Woman  suffrage  she  dismissed  lightly. 

"That's  of  so  little  account.  Of  course  it  will 
come,  sooner  or  later.  That  does  not  interest  me. 
The  great  question  between  man  and  woman  is  mar- 


riage 


"  Perhaps  it  were  better  to  say  the  greatest  problem 
that  the  human  race  has  had  to  consider,"  responded 
Massingale,  smiling.  "  That's  why  we  keep  putting 
off  its  readjustment.  What  would  you  do?  Abol- 
ish it?" 

"  Some  day,  yes ! "  said  Estelle,  without  evasion. 
"  I  say  flatly  that  two  human  beings  weren't  made  to 
live  together  all  the  time.  It  may  happen  once  in  a 
million  times,  and  then  —  do  we  ever  know  ?  What 
I  hate  about  marriage  is,  it  is  so  intellectually  debas- 
ing: one  has  to  lie  all  the  time  to  make  the  other 
happy,  and  then  you  end  by  lying  to  yourself !  " 

Massingale,  awakened  from  a  tolerant  amusement 


THE  SALAMANDER  327 

to  a  quick  curiosity  by  her  boldness,  shifted  to  a  more 
alert  position,  asking: 

"  Just  in  what  way?  " 

"  The  thing  I  want  to  do,"  said  Estelle  Monks, 
her  face  lighting  up  with  enthusiasm,  "  is  to  think 
honestly,  not  to  fool  myself!  Now  what  is  mar- 
riage? It  is  really  an  institution  for  the  assembling 
and  transmission  of  property."  ("Ah,  she's  been 
dipping  into  socialism,"  thought  Massingale.) 
"  Good !  But,  in  order  to  make  it  convincing,  we 
Americans  try  to  give  it  a  romantic  basis ! " 

"  And  you  think  that's  worse  ?  "  said  Dodo,  open- 
ing her  eyes. 

"  Much !  That's  where  the  lie  begins !  We 
swear  not  only  to  live  together  in  a  business  partner- 
ship, but  to  love  and  adore  each  other,  and  to  love  no 
one  else  for  the  rest  of  our  lives." 

"  Why,  Estelle !  "  exclaimed  Dodo,  who  was  pro- 
foundly shocked  in  her  deepest  romanticism. 

"  Yes ;  and  in  order  to  bolster  up  this  absurdity  we 
have  to  corrupt  our  whole  literature.  Young  girls 
and  men  are  brought  up  with  the  idea  that  God,  in 
some  mysterious  providence,  has  arranged  for  us  a 
special  affinity  —  that  there  can  be  only  one  person  to 
love  in  the  whole  world.  Why,  some  are  so  fanatic 
that  they  are  certain  that  they  shall  go  on  together 
riding  a  star  for  a  few  million  years  through  a  few 
trillion  spaces !  Now,  that's  what  I  call  fooling  your 
intelligence !  " 

'*  Yet  I  know  those  who  have  been  married  forty 
years  and  still  love !  "  said  Massingale  seriously. 


328  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  As  comrades  or  as  lovers  ?  "  asked  Estelle  quickly. 
"  Comradeship  —  yes,  that  I  admit :  comradeship  be- 
tween man  and  woman,  each  equal,  each  free,  not 
forced  to  account  to  the  other,  comradeship  such  as 
exists  between  you  men  —  absolute  loyalty,  absolute 
trust,  each  working  for  the  same  object,  working  to- 
gether, an  object  outside  of  yourselves.  That  is  life 
and  liberty!  And  what  is  the  other  —  your  mar- 
riage? Each  sacrificing  what  he  doesn't  want  to  sac- 
rifice, unless,  which  is  worse,  one  does  all  the  sacrific- 
ing. What  happens  now?  A  woman  exists  as  a 
free  being  for  twenty  —  twenty-five  years ;  then  a 
man  comes  along  and  says,  in  so  many  words: 

"  '  If  you  have  lived  a  virtuous  life  — •  which  I  have 
not  —  I  will  allow  you  to  renounce  all  your  male 
friends,  or  retain  those  whom  I  approve  of  as  ac- 
quaintances, to  limit  your  horizon  to  my  home,  to 
bear  my  children,  to  accept  my  opinions,  never  to  be 
interested  in  any  other  man  but  me,  to  keep  my  house, 
amuse  me  when  I'm  tired,  convince  me  of  my  superi- 
ority over  all  other  men,  go  where  I  must  go,  and  age 
before  I  must  age;  and  in  return  for  these  favors  I 
will  swear  to  convince  you  that  I  have  loved  no  other 
woman  but  you,  will  blind  my  eyes  to  all  other  women 
but  you,  and,  if  I  die  first,  you  will  find  me  waiting 
patiently  by  the  pearly  gates ! ' 

Her  listeners  acclaimed  this  sally  with  shrieks  of 
laughter. 

"  May  I  ask,  out  of  curiosity,"  said  Massingale, — 
for,  these  conversations  being  serious,  frankness  was 


THE  SALAMANDER  329 

the  rule, — "  how  you  feel  toward  my  sex  —  your  op- 
pressors ?  " 

"  Being  a  healthy  woman  who  enjoys  life,"  said 
Estelle  simply,  "  I  like  men  very  much  —  better  than 
women,  who  are  to  me  usually  nothing  but  sounding- 
boards.  More,  it  pleases  me  exceedingly  to  attract 
men,  and  to  be  attracted !  " 

"And  if  you  fall  in  love,  temporarily?  Or  per- 
haps—" 

"  Not  at  all !  I  desire  very  much  to  find  a  man  big 
enough,  courageous  enough,  so  that  I  could  love  him. 
When  I  do,  I  shall  live  with  him  openly !  " 

Massingale  looked  up,  rather  startled;  but  Estelle, 
without  embarrassment,  in  her  simple  fanatic  way, 
continued : 

"  I  should  hope  that  it  might  be  for  life.  If  it  were 
not,  there  should  be  no  tyranny.  Only,  whatever  I 
do  will  be  done  honestly  and  openly :  when  such  a  man 
comes  I  shall  announce  it  frankly  to  my  friends  and 
to  those  who  have  a  right  to  know ! " 

Massingale  was  about  to  interject  that  she  would 
be  a  long  time  finding  a  man  who,  on  his  side,  would 
have  the  courage  to  assume  such  responsibility;  but  a 
certain  analogy  to  his  own  predicament  tripped  up  his 
impulse  and  made  him  change  his  remark. 

"  Others  have  thought  the  same,  theoretically,"  he 
said  carefully.  "  Few  have  dared  to  put  it  into  prac- 
tise." 

"  Which  is  immoral,  that  or  nine-tenths  of  the 
marriages  to-day?  Am  I  selling  myself,  as  many  a 


330  THE  SALAMANDER 

woman  in  your  world  does  who  marries  for  ambition 
and  retreats  under  the  mockery  of  a  legal  phrase? 
And  when  love  has  changed  into  indifference  or  hate, 
is  there  anything  more  horrible,  more  brutalizing, 
than  marriage,  and  is  such  a  woman  anything  but  a 
paid  mistress?  I  know  women  who  tell  me  their 
stories,  who  look  at  marriage  as  a  sort  of  social  um- 
brella. And  they  are  right!  Society  demands  only 
appearances;  it  never  cares  what  goes  on  under  the 
umbrella!  That's  why  I  want  to  live  honestly  and 
think  honestly,  and  that's  why  I  intend  to  have  the 
courage  to  live  as  a  free  and  self-respecting,  intelli- 
gent human  being ! " 

These  extraordinary  sentiments  were  pronounced 
with  the  fire  of  the  revolutionary;  nor  was  all  that  she 
had  earnestly  proclaimed  without  its  effect  on  him. 
He  did  not  seek  to  amuse  himself,  but,  impressed  as 
if  seeking  to  perceive  the  extent  of  what  might  be 
coming,  he  asked: 

"  One  question.  You  are  a  good  reporter.  You 
go  everywhere,  and  women  talk  to  you  frankly.  How 
many  share  your  ideas  ?  " 

"As  ideas  —  many!"  said  Estelle.  "Unfortu- 
nately, women  are  still  what  history  has  forced  them 
to  be ;  their  courage  is  in  deceiving !  " 

"I  know  it  is  so!"  said  Massingale,  aroused  in  a 
way  that  Dodo  had  never  seen  him  —  a  perception 
which  was  allied  with  a  little  jealousy  that  Estelle 
should  thus  appeal  to  him.  "  It  is  inevitable,  too. 
Women  who  are  in  revolt  to-day  see  in  marriage  the 
instrument  of  all  their  oppressions.  It  is  natural  that 


THE  SALAMANDER  331 

women  are  resisting  the  idea  of  marriage.  But  they 
are  doing  so  blindly.  They  do  not  distinguish  be- 
tween marriage  as  an  ideal,  and  the  defective  concep- 
tion of  marriage:  just  as  people  who  violently  attack 
the  shortcomings  of  the  church  confuse  a  human  in- 
strument with  a  divine  religion.  I  can  answer  you  at 
once.  Are  you  perfect?  Am  I  perfect?  Why, 
then,  should  marriage,  which  is  the  union  of  imperfect 
beings,  be  a  perfect  thing?" 

"  But  such  a  union  as  I  believe  in  would  be  a  true 
marriage ! "  said  Estelle  Monks,  restless  under  the 
doubts  his  words  had  brought  to  her  philosophy. 
"  You'll  answer,  *  Marry  and  divorce.'  But  that's  all 
quibbling ;  my  way  is  more  honest ! " 

He  did  not  continue  the  conversation,  wondering 
to  what  extent  Dodo  had  been  listening  to  such  an 
advanced  apostle ;  but  he  said : 

"  Miss  Monks,  you're  very  honest,  and  I  know  you 
believe  all  you  say;  but  —  don't  be  offended  if  I  tell 
you  this !  —  opinions  change  with  experience,  and  you 
have  not  yet  had  that  experience  with  actual  condi- 
tions that  is  necessary !  " 

Estelle  Monks,  piqued  at  this  answer  which  pre- 
cluded argument,  rose  stiffly  and  went  out. 

"  Why  did  you  say  that  ?  "  asked  Dodo  reproach- 
fully, yet  not  displeased  to  be  left  alone  in  the  tete-a- 
tete  which  he  usually  avoided. 

He  was  in  a  serious  mood,  and  because  he  wished 
to  be  honest  in  his  own  mind,  he  answered  warily: 

"  She  is  too  fine  a  type.  I'd  hate  to  see  her  make  a 
mistake! " 


332  THE  SALAMANDER 

He  was  thinking  how  much  of  what  Estelle  Monks 
had  said  applied  to  his  own  marriage.  What  a  mock- 
ery it  was,  and  what  right  had  two  human  beings  who 
were  driven  apart  by  every  personal  antipathy  —  phys- 
ical, mental  and  spiritual  —  to  go  on,  bound  by  a  con- 
vention, preventing  each  other  from  seeking  happiness 
elsewhere?  And,  remembering  her  attack  on  mar- 
riage as  the  slavery  of  woman,  he  thought  bitterly 
that  she  had  expressed  only  half  the  truth.  He  was, 
indeed,  neither  married  nor  a  free  man,  checked  in 
every  impulse,  denied  at  every  turn. 

"  What  are  you  frowning  about  ?  "  said  Dodo. 

He  answered  hastily  in  that  language  which,  as  has 
been  said,  was  given  us  to  conceal  our  thoughts : 

"  I  was  wondering  how  much  she  had  affected 
you!" 

"  Not  the  least !  "  said  Dodo,  adding  impulsively : 
"  And  yet,  that  is  just  what  I  feel !  " 

"  You,  Dodo  ?  "  he  said  anxiously. 

She  went  to  him  with  a  sudden  enthusiasm,  taking 
his  hands,  perhaps  subconsciously  divining  the  bitter 
personal  reflection  that  had  been  going  on  in  his  mind, 
feeling  the  moment  to  be  propitious. 

"  Ah,  let  me  tell  you  now  what  I  want  for  us !  "  she 
began  ardently. 

"  The  great  dream,  Dodo  ?  "  he  said,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  a  dream,  but  a  dream  that  will  come  true ! " 
She  hesitated,  and  standing  before  him,  her  eyes 
lighted  up  by  the  penetration  of  a  woman,  a  glance 
that  left  him  confused,  she  said  directly:  "You 
think  you  understand  me?  You  don't;  but  I  under- 


THE  SALAMANDER  333 

stand  you!  You  are  afraid  of  me!  You  love  me, 
but  you  try  not  to,  because  you  are  afraid  of  me ! " 

"  How  ?  "  he  asked  lamely. 

"  Because  you  think  that  I  want  to  interfere  in  your 
life.  Oh,  yes,  you  do!  I  remember  the  look  in  your 
face  when  I  was  romancing  about  Sassoon,  making 
him  divorce  —  you  remember,  when  you  asked  if  that 
was  what  I  intended  to  do  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  was  joking!  " 

"  Not  entirely !  There's  been  a  good  deal  of  such 
thoughts  back  of  your  eyes.  You  are  afraid  I'll  take 
it  into  my  little  head  to  be  Mrs.  Massingale.  Don't 
deny  it,  Your  Honor ;  I  know !  That's  where  you  are 
totally  wrong.  I  hate  marriage;  I  could  not  stand  it 
a  month ! "  she  said  curtly.  And  she  continued 
dramatically,  stretching  out  her  hand :  "  I  swear  to 
you  now  that,  whatever  happens,  I  will  never  be  your 
wife !  I've  told  you  I  would  take  nothing  from  you ; 
I  mean  it !  " 

He  watched  her,  erect  and  impassioned,  weakly 
conscious  of  the  dominion  she  had  established  over 
every  craving  and  every  impulse. 

"Ah,  no,  no!"  she  exclaimed  indignantly.  "It's 
nothing  so  commonplace  I  want!  There's  only  one 
love  possible  to  me  —  a  great  transcending  passion, 
which  would  be  so  far  above  all  earthly  things  that  a 
year  —  a  month  —  would  compensate  for  a  whole  life 
of  loneliness!  Don't  you  see,  it's  love,  an  immense 
love,  such  as  only  comes  once  in  a  million  times,  that 
I'm  seeking?  " 

"How?" 


334  THE  SAEAMANDER 

Suddenly  her  mood  leaped  into  playfulness,  her 
eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  and  her  clasped  hands  pil- 
lowed themselves  against  her  cheek,  as  if  imprisoning 
in  a  caress  a  beautiful  and  precious  thought. 

"  First,  let's  run  away  —  away  from  all  this  ugli- 
ness, from  all  these  eyes,  from  all  this  hateful,  nois^. 
black-and-brown  city!  Run  away!  Oh,  that's  such 
a  wonderful  idea  in  itself,  to  go  flying  through  the 
night,  just  you  and  I,  leaving  it  all  behind,  to  a  place 
I  dream  of  night  and  day  —  to  some  wonderful  is- 
land, far  off  in  the  Pacific,  where  we  can  be  alone,  live 
for  ourselves ! " 

He  did  not  check  her,  though  he  was  wondering 
from  what  book  she  had  found  such  ideas,  curious  to 
learn  to  what  extent  she  had  visualized  her  romance. 

"  And  how  long  would  you  keep  the  island, 
Dodo?" 

"Not  long!"  she  said  quietly.  "Perhaps  a  year, 
perhaps  only  a  season.  That  must  be  agreed;  and 
when  the  dream  is  over  we  would  come  back ! " 

"And  then?" 

"  And  then  we  would  separate  and  never  see  each 
other  again ! " 

"Why?" 

"  So  that  it  could  never  become  commonplace  or 
stale  —  so  that  it  could  live  in  our  lives  as  the  one 
great  memory,  with  no  regrets." 

She  stopped,  looked  at  him  tensely,  and  went  on: 

"  You  would  take  up  your  life  again,  and  I  would 
bury  myself  in  my  career,  and  you  would  watch  me, 
little  by  little,  become  a  great  name !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  335 

"  And  never  see  each  other  — " 

"  Perhaps  when  we  are  quite  old,"  she  said  sud- 
denly. "You  won't  believe  me!  I  would  do  it!" 
She  clasped  her  hands  tumultuously  over  her  heart. 
"  Oh,  how  easily  I  would  do  it !  Ah,  to  have  such  a 
romance  —  anything  might  come !  " 

"What  book  have  you  been  reading?"  he  asked 
quietly  —  yet  feeling  a  little  sad  that  he  could  not  fol- 
low where  her  lawless  imagination  ran. 

She  turned  away  hotly,  clenching  her  fists,  crying: 

"Ah,  you  will  never  let  go  of  yourself!  You  are 
afraid  —  afraid  of  everything!" 

He  followed  her,  laying  a  hand  on  her  shoulder  as 
she  stood  by  the  window. 

"  Keep  your  island  in  southern  seas ! "  he  said,  with 
such  emotion  in  his  voice  that  she  wheeled  about. 
"  Believe  in  it  all  you  want,  extraordinary  child,  even  if 
it  ends  by  my  paying  all  the  penalty.  Go  on  with  your 
day-dreaming." 

His  glance  lay  in  hers,  his  arms  were  longing  to 
take  her  into  them,  when  Snyder  entered,  with  a  quick 
knock  that  gave  them  only  time  to  spring  apart.  At 
this  moment  Dodo  could  have  driven  her  out,  fiercely 
rebelling  against  this  constant  espionage.  What  right 
had  Snyder  or  any  one  to  interfere  with  her  liberty, 
or  to  say  whom  she  should  see?  She  resolved  hotly 
to  have  an  explanation  when  she  returned.  Now  it 
was  necessary  to  master  her  emotion. 

"  A  moment  —  a  moment  to  change  my  dress ; 
ready  in  ten  minutes!  " 

She  ran  quickly  to  trunk  and  bureau,  gathering  up 


336  THE  SALAMANDER 

her  articles  of  dress;  disappearing  behind  a  screen  in 
the  corner.  Massingale,  after  a  calculating  glance  at 
the  figure  of  Snyder,  rigid  in  the  window,  sat  down, 
drawing  a  magazine  to  him.  He  no  longer  felt  the 
unease  he  had  experienced  at  the  woman's  first  inter- 
ruption. It  seemed  so  natural  to  be  there,  in  the 
musty  high  room,  littered  with  trunks,  with  its  patches 
of  carpet  and  incongruous  wall-paper. 

In  the  closet,  behind  a  discreetly  closed  door,  Dodo 
was  laughing  at  her  narrow  quarters.  Outside, 
through  the  windows,  the  marshaled  city  was  setting 
its  lights  for  Christmas  Eve  —  thousands  on  thou- 
sands of  human  beings  disciplined  under  the  old  order 
of  what  is  called  right  and  wrong,  the  millions  who 
never  really  entered  his  life  and  for  whose  approval 
his  every  word  and  action  must  be  calculated. 

"Snyder,  come  and  button  me!"  called  Dodo, 
emerging  from  the  closet  behind  the  screen. 

She  felt  nothing  unusual  in  this  hidden  change  of 
dress,  but  to  him  the  touch  of  intimacy  aroused  more 
than  his  curiosity. 

When  they  descended  to  the  closed  car,  gaily  brush- 
ing the  snowflakes  from  each  other,  a  little  moved  by 
all  that  had  passed,  feeling,  too,  the  obliterating  unre- 
alities of  dark  streets  and  lights  glistening  amid  the 
obscurity,  he  said: 

"  Dodo,  I  wish  it  could  be !  " 

"  It  can,  it  can !  "  she  answered  impulsively,  excited 
at  his  approach  to  consent. 

"  The  world's  too  big  for  us !  " 

"  Some  men  would  have  the  courage !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  337 

"  The  trouble  is,  I  am  born  under  a  curse,"  he  said 
moodily.  "  I'm  limited  —  a  gentleman :  that's  the 
best  and  the  worst  of  me ! " 

"  A  gentleman !  "  she  repeated  scornfully.  "  Yes, 
that's  the  whole  of  it!  That's  why  you're  afraid  of 
everything  —  why  you'll  never,  never  dare!" 

"That's  true,  Dodo!" 

"  And  what  is  a  gentleman  ?  "  she  asked  angrily. 

He  looked  beyond  her  at  the  lighted  windows  of  his 
club,  arrogantly  set  in  judgment  over  the  multitude 
on  the  avenue,  and  answered,  in  mockery : 

"  A  gentleman,  Dodo,  is  one  who  is  a  gentleman 
because  he  associates  with  those  who  are  gentlemen 
because  they  associate  with  him !  " 

She  did  not  laugh  at  this;  there  was  more  below  it 
than  the  sarcasm.  Presently  she  drew  his  hand  into 
hers. 

"  How  much  you  need  me,  Your  Honor! "  she  said 
softly.  "What  is  the  rest  worth?  Let  me  guide 
you!" 

He  did  not  reply.  In  fact,  he  knew  too  well  that 
he  had  surrendered  already,  and  in  that  moment,  he 
said  to  himself  that  he  would  take  his  courage  in  his 
hands — 'that  now,  before  the  week  had  ended,  he 
would  go  to  his  wife  and  claim  from  her  his  liberty, 
whatever  her  terms. 

Dore  returned  early,  after  a  dinner  at  the  Hickory 
Log,  riotous  with  the  Christmas  cheer.  Massingale 
had  an  engagement;  she  wished  to  be  in  her  room, 
childlike,  eager  for  the  excitement  of  arriving  pres- 
ents. Besides,  she  had  planned  a  tree  for  Betty,  and 


338  THE  SALAMANDER 

with  Ida's  aid,  she  set  delightedly  to  the  task  of  ar- 
ranging candles,  twining  tinsel,  tying  up  presents  in 
neat  tissue-paper  with  enticing  bows  of  red  ribbon. 
She  had  depleted  her  slender  treasury  in  presents  for 
Betty,  having  bought  almost  a  dozen,  inscribing  each 
from  some  imaginary  fairy  prince  or  goblin  whom 
they  had  met  in  their  enchanted  wanderings. 

By  ten  o'clock  the  tree  was  completed,  the  pile  of 
her  own  presents  had  stopped  at  respectable  propor- 
tions, and  the  wanderlust  having  come,  Dodo  —  not 
without  a  little  feeling  of  treachery  to  Massingale  — 
allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded,  and  departed  for  a 
"  spree."  When  they  returned  in  Peavey's  automo- 
bile, which  Dodo  had  commandeered,  there  was  al- 
ready a  slight  covering  of  snow,  and  at  the  windows 
the  slipping  wheels  flung  flurries  of  white  flakes. 

"I  can't  bear  an  old  masher  —  a  fossil  that's  fall- 
ing to  pieces !  "  said  Ida  gaily,  returning  over  the 
events  of  the  evening.  "  Did  you  see  that  old  Caxton, 
that  was  buzzing  around  me  all  evening?  " 

Dodo  laughed. 

"He  started  after  me,  but  I  shook  him!" 

"  Heavens,  Do,  how  do  you  manage  ?  I  never 
can ! " 

"  I  gave  him  an  awful  shock,"  explained  Dodo,  con- 
tinuing to  laugh.  "  He'd  been  looking  at  me  with 
big  wolf  eyes,  licking  his  chops  and  telling  me  he'd 
leave  his  happy  home  for  me  —  you  know  the  stuff. 
He  had  me  cornered  at  the  upper  table,  and  just  as  I 
started  to  slip  away  he  caught  my  arm. 


u 

JS 


THE  SALAMANDER  339 

"  '  And  what's  your  fairy  name,  you  darling  ? '  says 
he. 

"  And  I  answered : 

"'Gussie!' 

"  You  should  have  seen  the  face  he  made !  He 
dropped  me  like  a  hot  potato !  " 

Then  she  was  silent,  deliciously  cradled  in  her  own 
thoughts,  convincing  herself  that  what  yesterday  had 
seemed  but  a  faint  dream  was  now  a  possibility,  vis- 
ualizing, in  dormant  balmy  seas,  an  island  all  white 
and  green,  a  fairy  island  as  enchanted  as  the  king- 
doms which  each  day  she  constructed  for  Betty's  won- 
dering eyes.  To  be  Mrs.  Massingale,  to  enter  into 
all  the  irksome  routine  of  formal  society  —  no,  that 
had  no  appeal !  A  year  or  a  season  in  a  world  of  her 
own,  a  great  romance,  a  love  that  would  sweep  them 
up  like  the  magnificently  reckless  storms  of  passion 
which  came  to  her  over  the  inspired  motives  of 
Tristan  and  Isolde  —  that,  and  then  a  life  of  work 
and  accomplishment,  a  career. 

All  at  once,  as  the  skidding  automobile  slowed  and 
sloughed  about  a  corner,  a  group  under  a  lamp-post, 
black  and  silhouetted  against  the  snow,  sprang  across 
the  fragile  fabric  of  her  dreams  out  of  the  horrid  world 
of  reality  —  a  figure  that  scattered  all  selfish  thoughts 
and  overwhelmed  her  with  the  power  of  a  great  re- 
morse. She  leaned  forward  precipitately,  beating  on 
the  window  for  Brennon  to  stop,  and  even  in  the  mo- 
ment of  her  disorder,  true  to  the  Salamander  instinct, 
she  explained  hastily : 


340  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  A  cousin  —  oh,  dear !  he's  been  on  a  spree  for 
months;  the  family's  distracted.  Stop!  Wait  —  I 
must  get  hold  of  him.  No,  no ;  let  me  out !  " 

And  to  Ida's  amazement,  opening  the  door,  heedless 
of  the  slush  on  her  delicate  feet,  of  the  bitter  night,  of 
what  any  one  would  think, —  obeying  only  an  irresist- 
ible cry  from  her  soul, —  Dodo  had  sprung  out  and  run 
to  the  sidewalk,  where  the  ghost  of  Lindaberry,  come 
up  from  the  abyss,  was  standing  embattled,  torn  and 
disheveled,  magnificently  crazed,  and  at  his  feet  a 
policeman,  knocked  out. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

DORfi  went  to  Lindaberry,  without  a  thought  of 
fear,  crying  his  name : 

"Garry,  it's  I  — Dodo!" 

He  turned,  striving  to  recognize  her  through  the 
blurred  phantasmagoria  of  the  week. 

"Who?" 

He  drew  his  hand  across  his  face,  bending  down  a 
little,  staring  at  her.  At  the  moment  she  despaired  of 
his  recognizing  her,  suddenly  he  stiffened  up,  made  an 
attempt  to  readjust  his  clothes,  and  doffed  his  hat. 
She  gave  a  cry  of  horror:  across  his  forehead  was  a 
seam  of  blood. 

"You're  hurt!" 

"  'S  nothing,"  he  said,  drawing  a  long  breath,  and 
his  jaw  growing  rigid  with  the  attempt  to  recover  his 
control.  He  relaxed  his  grip  on  the  collar  of  the  inert 
policeman,  who  flattened  out  against  the  trampled 
snow.  "  This  little  misunshtanding  —  gen'lman 
spoke  rather  rude.  Sorry  —  little  mussed.  'Scuse 
me." 

The  fear  that  others  might  arrive  and  find  him  thus, 
the  dread  of  an  arrest  —  a  trial  and  publicity  —  gave 
her  a  new  will ;  for,  strangely  enough,  even  before  his 
wild  demeanor  she  had  no  fear. 

"  I've  come,  as  I  promised,"  she  said  quickly. 
"  I'm  going  to  take  you  home.  Come,  Garry !  " 

34i 


342  THE  SALAMANDER 

"Any  one  else?  "  he  asked,  shrinking  back. 

"  My  maid,"  she  said  quickly. 

He  bowed  and  gave  her  his  arm  to  the  automobile. 
At  the  door  he  placed  her  inside,  saying,  with  careful 
courtesy : 

"  Sit  outside.     Thank  you.     Not  fit.     All  right !  " 

Aware  of  his  condition,  by  some  tremendous  exer- 
tion of  his  will,  he  had  flung  back  the  lethargy  that 
held  his  senses,  and  recovered  his  dignity.  Dodo,  in 
the  car,  was  thinking  rapidly.  The  first  glance  at  his 
eyes  and  quivering  lips  had  told  her  how  serious  was 
the  crisis.  Everything  else  disappeared  before  this  in- 
sistent need  of  her  —  romance,  intrigues,  calculation, 
or  care  of  what  others  might  think. 

"  Ida,  it's  not  true  what  I  said,"  she  said  rapidly. 
"  He's  not  my  cousin,  but  some  one  whom  I  would 
give  my  life  to  save.  I'm  taking  him  to  his  house. 
You  must  come  in  with  me  —  until  we  can  get  a  doc- 
tor. I  can't  leave  him.  If  you  get  a  chance,  tell 
Brennon  it's  my  brother ;  he  mustn't  know." 

She  had  anticipated  a  struggle  to  get  Lindaberry  to 
his  rooms ;  but,  to  her  surprise,  he  walked  from  the  car 
without  wavering,  and  up  the  flight  of  stairs  to  his 
apartment.  The  two  girls,  leaving  Brennon  below 
with  orders  to  wait,  followed  quickly.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments his  valet,  hastily  awakened,  had  let  them  in.  He 
was  a  young  fellow,  strong  and  intelligent,  and  he 
gave  a  cry  of  relief  at  the  sight  of  the  master  thus  re- 
turned. 

"Dodo!" 


THE  SALAMANDER  343 

"Here  I  am!"  she  said  quickly,  touching  Linda- 
berry's  arm. 

"  Oh ! "  He  looked  at  her,  and  then,  as  if  sud- 
denly recollecting  himself,  imbued  with  the  need  of 
taking  command,  said :  "  Pretty  bad ;  can't  tell  what 
happened.  Doctor  —  Lampson  —  quick !  " 

She  turned  calmly  to  the  valet,  feeling  a  deep  de- 
light in  her  control  of  the  situation. 

"  You  know  Doctor  Lampson  ?  Good !  My  car's 
down-stairs.  Go  and  bring  him  immediately !  " 

She  returned  to  Lindaberry. 

"  Garry,  lie  on  the  couch !  You've  got  a  scratch ; 
I  want  to  bind  it  up.  Ida,  bring  me  a  couple  of  towels, 
sponge,  water." 

He  obeyed  her,  but  his  glance  started  nervously  at 
the  sight  of  Ida  Summers. 

"Who's  that?" 

She  comprehended  his  humiliation  that  another 
should  see  him  thus,  and  replied  again,  with  a  warning 
look  at  Ida,  who  came  in : 

"  My  maid,  Garry ;  that's  all !  " 

"  Tell  her  —  wait  —  outside." 

"Very  well!" 

Ida,  at  a  nod,  went  into  the  library,  not  without 
wonder  at  the  quiet  authority  of  voice  and  action  in  her 
butterfly  friend. 

She  made  him  stretch  out  on  the  sofa,  and  with 
sponge  and  towel  quickly  bathed  and  bound  up  the 
gash  across  his  temple.  The  application  of  cold  water 
seemed  to  calm  him.  He  relaxed  and  closed  his  eyes 


344  THE  SALAMANDER 

as  she  remained  at  his  side,  applying  the  healing1 
sponge.  She  studied  the  racked  body  and  disordered 
head  with  a  tightening  of  her  heart.  The  weak  and 
quivering  lips,  the  sunken  cheeks,  the  dark  circles  un- 
der the  punished  eyes,  everything  cried  out  to  her : 

"  You  could  have  prevented  this !  " 

She  accused  herself  with  a  thousand  reproaches  in 
the  presence  of  this  wreck  she  had  made,  and  before 
his  abject  weakness  her  sense  of  possession  awoke. 
He  was  hers,  as  Betty  was  hers  —  by  right  of  the  un- 
answered famine  in  her  maternal  heart.  Come  what 
might,  she  would  not  leave  him  until  she  had  seen  him 
back  into  strength  and  courage  again.  She  called  him 
but  he  had  gone  off  into  an  unseeing  delirium,  wander- 
ing through  what  black  and  sunken  ways !  She  drew 
off  his  shoes,  disengaged  the  stained  tie  and  collar,  and 
by  patient  effort  slipped  the  torn  coat  from  him,  cover- 
ing him  with  a  clean  dressing-gown. 

Once  or  twice  he  sought  to  start  up,  but  each  time, 
at  her  hand  across  his  forehead  and  her  clear  voice  in 
his  ear,  he  relaxed.  This  docile  obedience,  this  will- 
ing trust  in  her  little  strength,  one  word  of  hers  still- 
ing the  storm  in  his  brain  and  bringing  peace  instead 
of  fury,  moved  her  almost  to  tears.  She  closed  her 
eyes,  her  hand  over  his  throbbing  lids,  and  gave  her- 
self up  to  an  impulsive  prayer  —  another  Dodo,  back 
again  in  the  quiet  soul  reaches  of  that  unfathomable 
night  when,  reckless  and  defiant,  ready  to  renounce  the 
faith  of  a  Salamander,  she  had  suddenly  found  her- 
self gliding  into  unforeseen  deeps,  miraculously  in- 
spired. 


THE  SALAMANDER  £45' 

After  a  long  half -hour  Doctor  Lampson  came  —  a 
powerful  man  of  quick  eye,  hearty  laugh  and  abound- 
ing vitality. 

"  Hello,  Garry !  Been  wrestling  with  sky- 
scrapers ? "  he  cried  with  a  rumbling  laugh,  sitting 
down  on  the  sofa.  "  Trying  to  drink  up  the  Hudson 
River,  eh?" 

"  Hello,  Alex !  "  said  Garry  gratefully.  He  shook 
his  head  despondently.  "  Bad  start !  " 

"  Rats,  man !  Bad  start  ?  What  are  you  talking 
about?  Remember  the  first  half  of  that  Princeton 
game,  eleven  to  nothing?  That  was  a  bad  start, 
wasn't  it?  Didn't  prevent  you  going  through  like  a 
runaway  engine  for  a  couple  of  touchdowns,  did  it? 
Well,  then !  Don't  talk  to  me !  I've  seen  you  start !  " 

"  Good  old  Alex ! "  said  Lindaberry,  with  a  smile. 
"Oh,  I'm  in  the  fight!" 

"  Yes ;  you  look  as  if  you'd  been  fighting,  all  right !  " 
said  Lampson  with  a  roar.  "  Now,  just  you  shut  up! 
What  you  want,  man,  is  sleep!  We'll  fix  you  up  in  a 
jiffy!" 

"  Stay ;  get  me  quiet,  will  you,  Alex  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  tell  me  what  to  do !  "  said  Doctor  Lamp- 
son,  with  assumed  fierceness.  "  Here,  Rogers,  get 
him  undressed  and  into  bed.  Back  in  a  moment !  " 

He  nodded  to  Dore,  and  they  passed  into  the  next 
room. 

"  Pretty  close  to  D.T's.  I'll  quiet  him  down,  but 
we've  got  to  get  a  trained  nurse  in  here,  Christmas  Eve 
—  bad  time !  "  He  began  to  whistle. 

"  But  I'm  here!  "  Dore  said  eagerly. 


346  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  You  ?  My  dear  child,  he  may  go  quietly,  and  then 
he  may  take  to  chewing  up  chairs  and  walking  on  the 
ceiling.  No,  no!  Who  the  devil  could  I  get  at  this 
hour?  "  he  said,  studying  Dore,  at  a  loss  where  to  place 
her. 

A  sudden  thought  came  to  her. 

"  There  are  two  trained  nurses  where  I  live,  friends 
of  mine,  just  a  few  blocks  away,  Doctor.  One  is  free 
—  I  know  she'd  come  for  me !  " 

"What's  her  name?" 

"  Stuart  —  Clarice  Stuart." 

"  I  know  her.  Good !  "  he  said,  breaking  in.  "  All 
right!  That'll  do!" 

Ida,  with  a  note  from  Dodo,  went  off  in  the  automo- 
bile, leaving  them  alone. 

"  You'd  better  go  too,  young  lady,"  he  said  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  I  am  going  to  stay !  "  she  said,  up  in  arms  at  once. 

"  This  is  no  place  for  you !  " 

"  If  I  were  a  trained  nurse,"  she  said  obstinately, 
"  it  would  be  all  right !  Well,  I'm  some  one  who  has  a 
great  deal  more  interest  in  saving  him  than  any  nurse, 
and  I  am  going  to  stay!"  She  turned  impulsively. 
"  Doctor  Lampson,  Mr.  Lindaberry  started  to  get  hold 
of  himself  for  me.  It's  my  fault,  I  didn't  do  what  I 
ought  to;  now  I'm  going  to  think  of  nothing  else! 
Don't  you  understand,  this  is  my  fault?  I  just  must 
help!"' 

"Well,  of  course,  that's  different!"  he  said,  still 
undecided. 

When  they  entered  the  bedroom,  they  found  Linda- 


THE  SALAMANDER  347 

berry  angry  and  excited,  struggling  to  rise,  against 
the  efforts  of  Rogers  to  keep  him  in  bed.  Dore  went 
to  him  without  a  thought  of  fear,  laid  her  hand  on  his 
wrist,  and  said  quickly : 

"  Garry,  be  quiet !  " 

He  relaxed  immediately  at  the  one  voice  that  pene- 
trated the  roaring  in  his  brain.  She  turned  with  a 
smile  toward  Lampson,  who  was  pulling  his  short 
beard. 

"  You  see?     He  will  do  as  I  tell  him!  " 

And  there  was  something  in  her  defiant  attitude,  the 
ardor  of  a  woman  fiercely  defending  her  own,  which 
convinced  him  that  she  had  the  right  to  stay. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning  she  returned  to 
her  room,  a  cloak  which  Clarice  Stuart  had  brought 
thrown  over  her  garments  of  the  reveling  night.  Yet, 
keenly  buoyed  up  by  the  sense  of  ministering',  she  had 
no  sense  of  fatigue.  She  had  been  at  Lindaberry's 
bedside  constantly,  combating  the  delirium  that  seized 
upon  him  in  abrupt  gusts  of  fury.  And  in  these  mo- 
ments of  frantic  wanderings,  as  he  tossed  helplessly 
before  the  stalking  phantoms  that  rose  out  of  the  grim 
yesterday,  when  real  and  unreal  went  rocking  through 
his  tortured  brain,  no  other  hand  but  hers  could  control 
him.  He  seemed  to  know  the  moment  she  slipped 
noiselessly  away,  turning  convulsively,  stretching  out 
his  arm,  querulously  summoning  her  back.  She 
obeyed,  untired,  willing,  rapturously  content. 

Rogers,  the  valet,  in  the  next  room ;  Clarice  Stuart, 
in  her  blue  and  white  nurse's  dress,  silently  in  a  cor- 
ner; Dore,  in  pink  and  white  evening  gown,  buckled 


348  THE  SALAMANDER 

satin  slippers,  with  the  odor  of  tired  flowers  still  at  her 
breast,  sat  endlessly,  her  eyes  on  the  restless  tormented 
head  and  the  twitching  lips  that  were  never  still,  listen- 
ing to  incoherent  phrases  that  still  had  intelligence  for 
her. 

What  an  inferno  of  desperation  and  defeat  rose 
shapelessly  about  her!  Through  what  dark  corners 
of  despair  had  he  blundered  in  these  last  days !  Some- 
times, across  the  horror  and  the  anguish  of  his  mutter- 
ings,  she  heard  her  name  called  in  a  voice  that  rent  her 
heart.  But  she  thought  no  more  of  herself,  only  of 
the  quiet  that  she  must  enforce  on  him;  and  quietly, 
smiling  in  the  dark,  she  repeated  in  a  gentle  voice: 

"  I  am  here,  Garry  —  Dodo ;  I  am  taking  care  of 
you !  Try  to  sleep !  No  —  I  won't  leave  you !  " 

The  hours  rang  from  some  unseen  clock,  and  in  the 
end  the  paling  dawn  filtered  across  the  white  roofs 
of  Christmas  morning.  Clarice  Stuart,  noiseless  as  a 
shadow,  rose  and  extinguished  the  useless  candle. 
Some  one  touched  her  on  the  shoulder.  It  was  Doctor 
Lampson,  his  finger  on  his  lips.  She  glanced  at  the 
bed,  slowly  disengaging  her  hand.  Lindaberry  had 
fallen  at  last  into  a  profound  sleep,  his  hand  clutching 
the  bedspread,  his  head  still  impulsively  turned  to- 
ward her. 

Once  or  twice  she  had  wondered  if  she  had  been 
wise  in  introducing  into  this  intimacy  Clarice  Stuart, 
whose  frivolous  side  only  was  known  to  her.  But,  as 
soon  as  she  had  come,  Dore  knew  she  had  made  no 
mistake.  Clarice  Stuart,  once  in  uniform,  was  an- 


THE  SALAMANDER  349 

other  being,  serious,  matter-of-fact,  concentrated,  with 
a  strength  that  surprised  her. 

"  Cut  out  apologies,  Dodo ! "  she  had  said,  with 
brusk  sincerity.  "  The  presents  are  all  in  —  the  props 
can  wait.  What's  a  turkey  between  friends?  This 
is  the  real  part  of  life.  You  need  me!  That's 
enough,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  had  asked  no  questions,  and  for  that  Dore  was 
grateful. 

When  she  reached  her  room,  she  calmed  her  nerves 
with  a  hot  bath  and  went  to  sleep  at  once,  without  a 
thought  of  the  heaped-up  presents  waiting  to  be 
opened,  or  the  mail  that  had  accumulated.  She  had 
only  one  idea :  to  snatch  some  rest,  and  to  be  back  — 
on  the  field  of  battle.  Snyder  had  been  waiting,  rest- 
less and  apprehensive,  looking  innumerable  questions 
at  such  an  inexplicable  return. 

"  Don't  worry,  Snyder !  "  she  had  said,  with  a  tired 
laugh.  "  Nothing  terrible's  happened.  Tell  you 
later  —  must  get  sleep.  Wake  me  at  ten !  " 

But  it  was  almost  eleven  when,  impelled  by  some  un- 
easy instinct,  she  awoke  precipitately,  furious  at  Sny- 
der, who,  on  her  part,  retreated,  dumb  and  obstinate. 
In  the  rapid  ten  minutes  in  which  she  dressed,  Dore, 
remembering  with  fresh  irritation  the  surveillance 
which  had  been  instituted  over  her  actions,  burst  out : 

"  Snyder,  what's  got  into  you?  I'm  beginning  to 
get  annoyed  —  yes,  exceedingly  so !  I  don't  like  your 
manner  toward  me.  I  sometimes  think  you  don't  ap- 
prove of  me!  What  is  it?  Do  you  think  I  am  not 


350  THE  SALAMANDER 

capable  of  taking  care  of  myself?  Or  do  you  wish 
to  select  my  friends  for  me?  Which  is  it?  Let  me 
understand !  " 

"  Well,  yes !  I  don't  want  to  see  you  getting  in 
trouble !  "  answered  Snyder  abruptly. 

"Ah,  that's  it!"  said  Dodo  indignantly.  "I 
couldn't  believe  it.  Now  I  know !  So  that's  why  you 
come  sneaking  in  every  time  I  have  a  man  calling 
here?" 

"  Not  every  man!  "  said  Snyder,  reddening.  "  One 
man!" 

"  Judge  Massingale  ?     Say  it !  " 

"Yes!" 

"Why?" 

"  You  know  very  well !  " 

"I  don't!" 

"  He  means  no  good !  "  said  Snyder  obstinately. 
"  Besides,  he  hasn't  the  right.  And  you  care !  " 

"  The  idea!  "  said  Dore,  flushing  hotly  under  an  ac- 
cusation which  she  knew  had  point.  "  I  suppose  you 
think  I've  been  out  with  him?  That  that's  the  sort 
of  girl  I  am?  Thank  you  for  your  confidence !  And 
may  I  ask  why  you  take  it  on  yourself  to  regulate  my 
conduct  ?  Have  I  ever  asked  you  any  questions  ?  Do 
I  know  anything  about  you?"  She  stopped  abruptly 
at  the  pain  that  flashed  into  Snyder's  face,  and,  being 
sensitive  to  such  things,  added  quickly :  "  You've 
hurt  me  very  much,  Snyder,  by  your  attitude  —  very 
much !  I  didn't  expect  it  of  you !  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  —  when  you  want.  Yes ;  guess  I  have 
been  sailing  under  false  colors!"  said  Snyder,  in  a 


THE  SALAMANDER  351 

blundering  voice.  "  No,  you  ain't  asked  questions. 
But  it  isn't  'cause  I  want  to  judge  you,  honey!  .  .  . 
Lord,  why  should  I  judge  ?  I'd  stick  to  you,  no  mat- 
ter what  you  were.  That's  not  it  —  only  — " 

"Only  — what?" 

"  Only,  pet,  you  don't  know  what's  facts ! "  said 
Snyder,  looking  at  her  directly,  "  facts  and  conse- 
quences ! " 

"  I've  got  a  very  wise  head ! "  said  Dodo,  laughing 
to  dismiss  a  subject  she  did  not  wish  to  discuss. 
"  Don't  you  worry  about  me,  Snyder !  I've  fooled 
many  a  man  who  thought  he  was  clever.  I  won't 
make  mistakes!  Give  me  the  mail!  I'm  off!  Back 
at  four  for  Betty  and  the  tree.  Be  prompt ! "  She 
started  out,  then  came  back  and  caught  Snyder  play- 
fully by  the  chin :  "  Why,  you  old  dragon,  don't  you 
know  I'm  just  amusing  myself  ?  " 

But  Snyder,  always  obstinate  and  direct,  answered: 

"  Dodo,  I  tell  you,  you're  serious !  " 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !  "  said  Dore,  departing  with 
an  exaggerated  laugh. 

Lindaberry  was  still  sunk  in  long-needed  slumber 
when  she  returned.  Clarice,  tiptoeing  out,  informed 
her  that  the  worst  had  been  avoided :  he  had  a  consti- 
tution and  a  will  that  was  incredible;  that  alone  had 
saved  him  from  an  attack  of  cerebral  fever.  What  he 
suffered  from  most  was  insomnia  and  lack  of  rest ;  then, 
of  course,  there  was  the  craving  that  had  grown 
into  the  body,  the  hot  thirst  for  alcohol.  He  would 
have  to  be  watched  every  moment  for  days.  There 
was  the  danger.  She  lay  down  on  the  sofa  in  the 


352  THE  SALAMANDER 

salon,  asleep  almost  instantly,  while  Dodo,  stealing 
back  to  the  bedroom,  encamped  in  a  distant  armchair 
by  a  fugitive  gray  slit  of  light,  began  to  sort  her 
Christmas  mail. 

There  were  a  score  of  letters  in  all,  gay  with  green 
and  red  stamps:  some  from  already  forgotten  bea,us, 
others  from  girl  friends;  a  long  annual  letter  from 
her  aunt  and  uncle,  distilling  the  heavy  quiet  and 
enforced  lethargy  of  the  small  town;  a  note  from. 
Peavey;  sentimental  scrawls  from  the  various  props; 
a  line  in  Sassoon's  brief  peremptory  style,  saying 
that  he  would  call  that  afternoon  —  an  announce- 
ment suggestive  of  presents  to  appear;  a  missive  from 
Massingale,  which  she  reserved  for  the  last;  several 
envelopes  in  unfamiliar  hands  which  puzzled  her  —  in 
fact,  odds  and  ends  of  all  the  curious  threads  that  had 
woven  into  her  life.  She  arranged  them  in  order,  the 
old  memories  first  to  be  read  and  forgot  the  quicker, 
the  outer  cohorts  of  admirers,  the  initiated,  and  for 
the  last  Massingale  and  a  letter  or  two  that  she  had  not 
peeped  into,  in  deference  to  her  love  of  the  mysterious. 

She  began  with  the  news  from  home,  her  body  stif- 
fening as  her  mind  set  itself  to  resistance.  It  was  ten 
pages  long,  closely  and  painfully  written  out  in  the 
familiar  faded  and  trembling  hand:  news  of  the 
weather  and  of  the  year's  building,  a  record  of  ill- 
nesses and  deaths,  who  had  married  and  who  had 
moved  —  the  tabulated  inconsequentialities  of  village 
life;  and  through  all  the  complaining  note  of  solitude 
and  longing  which  always  left  her  uneasy  before  the 
querulous  pleading  note  of  duty.  She  finished  rapidly, 


THE  SALAMANDER  353 

and  drew  a  long  breath.  The  next  was  from  her  old; 
admirer,  the  grocer's  clerk,  now  full  partner,  faith- 
fully announcing  his  marriage.  She  stopped  a  mo- 
ment at  the  name  of  the  woman. 

"  Bedelia  —  Bedelia  Stone  ?  Funny  I  can't  remem- 
ber. Oh,  of  course!  Delia  —  the  girl  with  red  hair 
and  freckles  who  hated  me  so.  Curious,  I'd  almost 
forgot!" 

She  went  on  to  the  next,  shaking  off  the  heaviness 
of  spirit  which  these  returning  memories  always  laid 
across  her  ascending  imagination.  Then  came  Christ- 
mas remembrances  from  other  outstripped  chance  de- 
votees —  one  from  a  young  dramatic  critic  in  Buffalo 
whom  she  had  enlisted  in  that  short  stop.  She  smiled 
at  this  fidelity,  rather  flattered.  Peavey's  letter,  an- 
nouncing a  delay  in  his  return,  and  the  forwarding  of 
a  present,  was  signed,  "  Your  devoted  and  faithful 
friend."  This  departure  from  formality  left  her  in  a 
reverie;  she  foresaw  complications  ahead,  a  new  dif- 
ficulty in  the  intimacy  of  the  coming  explanation  which 
would  require  all  her  tact  to  prevent  an  open  declara- 
tion. 

Before  beginning  Massingale's  letter  she  scanned 
anxiously  the  two  unopened  envelopes.  What  she 
had  feared  from  the  first  nervous  glance  was  a  letter 
from  Josh  Nebbins.  He  had  written  her  on  her  last 
birthday,  and  on  the  Christmas  before  —  sentimental 
confident  notes,  the  faith  of  a  man  who  believes  in  the 
future.  Each  time  she  had  determined  definitely  to 
announce  the  breaking  of  the  engagement, —  to  her 
long  since  a  thing  of  ridicule, —  but  she  had  delayed, 


354  THE  SALAMANDER 

mainly  from  cowardice,  for  fear  that  that  persistent, 
terrible  young  hustler  would  come  straight  to  New 
York.  Lately  she  feared  him  at  every  turn,  obsessed 
more  and  more  in  her  dreams  by  his  pursuing  shadow. 
To  her  relief,  no  word  had  come  from  him.  Per- 
haps he  too  had  forgot,  after  all!  She  raised  her- 
self and  glanced  at  the  bed,  where  Lindaberry  was 
still  moving  restlessly,  but  asleep.  Then  she  opened 
Massingale's  letter: 

"My  Lady-of-Dreams : 

"  Merry  Christmas,  and  everything  you  can  desire,  even  to  im- 
passible islands  in  southern  seas!  The  bracelet  I  send  you  car- 
ries a  talisman  of  good  luck  to  keep  you  from  an  ugly  world ! 
I'll  come  for  you  at  twelve,  to  tell  your  especial  ear  all  the  things 
that  are  too  fragile  to  put  on  crude  paper,  and  if  the  snow  holds, 
as  seems  probable,  we'll  get  a  sleigh  and  go  jingling  off  into 
the  new  world,  and  I'll  promise  solemnly  to  believe  everything 
you  wish  me  to  believe,  never  once  to  say  acting,  to  be  entirely 
docile  and  joyfully  credulous,  for  a  whole  twenty-four  hours. 

"  His   HONOR." 

She  glanced  guiltily  at  the  clock,  amazed  how  com- 
pletely Massingale  had  gone  out  of  her  thoughts.  It 
was  almost  noon.  She  arose  hastily  to  telephone. 
But  at  this  moment  the  man  in  the  bed  moved  and 
opened  his  eyes,  which  remained  profoundly  set  on  her 
halted  figure,  so  luminous  and  young  in  the  glowing 
golden  Russian  blouse  in  which  she  had  first  appeared 
to  him.  She  paused,  poised  lightly  on  her  toes,  as  he 
stared  out  at  her  incredulously,  striving  to  collect  his 
thoughts. 

"Dodo?"  he  said  in  a  whisper,  frowning  before 
him. 


THE  SALAMANDER  355 

She  came  to  his  bedside,  all  else  forgot,  smiling, 
radiant. 

"Here  I  am!" 

Suddenly  some  confused  streak  of  memory  seemed 
to  cross  his  brain,  and  immediately  he  said,  weakness  in 
his  voice: 

"  You  —  you  ought  not  to  be  here !  " 

"  I  am  not  alone,"  she  said,  sitting  down ;  "  there  is 
a  trained  nurse  in  the  other  room." 

"  I  remember  —  last  night  —  your  coming  suddenly. 
But—" 

"  Hush,  don't  try  to  remember !  "  she  said  quietly. 
"  Rest ;  sleep  all  you  can !  " 

He  continued  looking  at  her  with  great  uncompre- 
hending eyes. 

"  What  day  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

"  Christmas." 

"  Good  God ! "  He  turned  his  face  away,  horror- 
stricken  and  ashamed ;  but  she,  struck  by  the  movement 
and  the  shudder  that  passed  through  his  body,  called 
to  him  gently: 

"  Garry,  I  don't  blame  you.  Look  at  me !  No, 
don't  turn  away,  please." 

She  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  slipping  it  under 
his  head,  brought  it  back  to  her;  when  he  lifted  his 
eyes,  hers  were  smiling  through  her  tears,  compassion- 
ate and  tender. 

"  I  went  to  pieces,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  Never  mind !  Now  I  know  how  much  you  need 
me  —  what  I  can  mean !  " 

"  I  remember  nothing.     Good  God !  whert  have  I 


356  THE  SALAMANDER 

been  ?  "  he  said  bitterly,  and  in  his  eyes  was  the  black 
fog  of  impenetrable  days  and  nights. 

"  It  was  my  fault,  too;  I  made  the  mistake,  Garry!  " 
she  said  hastily.  "  All  that  is  over,  though.  Now 
we'll  make  the  fight  together !  " 

He  watched  her  mutely,  his  eyes  seeming  to  widen 
and  deepen  with  the  intensity  of  his  gaze. 

"Don't  go  away  —  just  now  —  to-day.  .  .  ." 

"I  won't!" 

"  And  wear  — "  He  raised  his  hand  and  ran  it 
caressingly  over  the  golden  velvet.  "  It's  your  color !  " 

She  nodded,  smiling  down  on  him,  her  soothing 
fingers  running  lightly  over  his  hot  forehead. 

"  Lord !  Such  a  defeat !  "  he  said  presently,  shaking 
his  head. 

"Hush!" 

"  What  can  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

She  looked  down  at  his  great  frame,  at  the  bared 
muscles  of  the  arm  that  lay  at  her  side,  the  corded 
brown  neck,  rough  cut  of  chin,  the  powerful  features, 
now  so  weak  and  so  appealing.  The  despondency  she 
saw  in  that  great  strength  and  stricken  energy  brought 
her  all  the  closer  to  him,  with  an  impulse  to  join  all  her 
strength  to  his,  to  take  away  the  sting  and  the  morti- 
fication, to  raise  him  with  confidence  and  hope. 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  began  to  send  out  its  twelve 
tiny  warning  notes.  She  did  not  remember.  She 
was  looking  in  his  eyes,  smiling,  bending  over  him, 
claiming  him  by  every  gentle  right ;  and  the  breath  th?t 
came  deeply  from  her  moving  breast  descended  to  him, 
bearing  all  her  strength,  all  her  will,  all  herself. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

AT  four  o'clock,  Garry  once  more  asleep  to  the 
sound  of  her  calming  voice,  she  ran  out  for  a 
brief  visit  to  Miss  Pirn's.  In  front  of  the  door  was  an 
automobile  that  she  recognized  —  in  the  heavy  medi- 
ocrity of  the  parlor,  Albert  Edward  Sassoon.  He 
came  languidly  to  meet  her  (since  her  first  reproof  he 
had  given  up  his  pasha  pose),  unruffled  and  docile,  as- 
suming the  role  of  good  fellowship,  despite  the  fretting 
of  the  spirit  he  had  endured. 

"  Oh,  is  that  you  ?  "  she  remarked  nonchalantly,  and 
gave  him  a  limp  hand,  arranging  her  toque  in  the  mir- 
ror while  listening  to  his  Christmas  greetings. 

"  The  humblest  and  the  most  patient  of  your  ad- 
mirers, pretty  tyrant !  "  he  said,  his  tired  eyes  scan- 
ning her  with  mock  humility. 

"  You  are  lucky  to  find  me ;  waiting  long?  " 

As  she  continued  standing,  without  a  move  to  be 
seated,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  two  jewel-cases,  and 
said,  as  he  moved  toward  the  sofa : 

"  I  am  going  to  let  you  choose,  Miss  Dodo,  so  that 
you  may  be  sure  " —  he  paused,  and  added  with  slow 
silky  emphasis — "to  get  just  what  you  want!  " 

"  Oh,  that's  very  nice ! "  she  said,  with  a  nod,  a  lit- 
tle intrigued  at  the  suggestion  in  his  voice,  very  curious 
to  see  what  he  would  offer  her.  Between  them  she 

357 


358  THE  SALAMANDER 

was  always  conscious  of  move  and  countermove. 
Would  he  take  this  moment  to  make  another  overt  ad- 
vance, after  these  long  weeks  of  acquiescence  to  her 
whims  ?  Just  how  much  did  this  infatuation  and  pur- 
suit mean  to  him,  translated  into  dollars?  She  sat 
down,  keenly  interested,  holding  out  her  hand. 

"First,  please!" 

He  laid  a  red  plush  box  on  her  eager  palm,  slowly, 
delaying  a  moment  en  connaisseur,  to  appreciate  the 
delicate  wrist  and  the  shell-pink  fragile  shades  of  the 
finger-tips. 

"It's  a  ring,  a  valuable  ring,  to  tempt  me!''  she 
thought,  smiling  wisely  to  herself.  She  opened  the 
box  —  immensely  surprised.  Inside  was  a  tiny  watch 
bracelet  in  gold  and  enamel,  rare  in  design,  but  quite 
modest  as  an  offering  from  him. 

She  slipped  it  on  her  wrist,  nodding  appreciatively, 
choosing  her  words  carefully. 

"  How  cunning !  What  a  dear  little  watch !  How 
clever  of  you !  " 

"  Wait !  "  He  leaned  forward,  offering  the  other 
box.  "  There  is  a  choice,  you  know !  " 

She  pressed  the  spring,  and  remained  staring, 
caught  by  surprise.  Against  a  background  of  royal 
blue,  a  necklace  of  pearls  met  her  eyes,  luminous  and 
humanly,  nakedly  beautiful  —  a  necklace  such  as  once 
she  had  stood  before  on  Fifth  Avenue,  breathless  with 
desire,  coveting  each  pearl  that  lay  like  a  rare  and  per- 
fectly beautiful  nymph  asleep  against  the  lawn.  The 
choice !  She  understood  the  cruel  cleverness  of  it  now. 
She  shut  the  cover  quickly,  afraid  to  let  her  fingers 


THE  SALAMANDER  359 

know  the  delight  of  such  a  caress.  Then  she  raised 
her  eyes  steadily  to  his  keen  scrutiny. 

"  You  ran  no  risk !  "  she  said  scornfully. 

"  Take  it !     I  ask  nothing !  "  he  said  quietly. 

"Then  why  offer  it?" 

"  That  you  may  understand  my  nature,"  he  said  in 
a  lower  voice  —  "  how  I  am  when  I  care !  " 

"  You  know  I  could  not  honestly  take  such  a  pres- 
ent!" 

"Why  not?  You  have  warned  me!"  he  still  per- 
sisted. 

"  I  think  such  a  woman  is  worse  than  one  who  pays," 
she  said  disdainfully,  and  with  an  angry  motion  she 
pushed  the  box  from  her,  rising. 

"  Miss  Baxter,"  he  said,  with  studied  courtesy,  put- 
ting the  necklace  back  into  his  pocket,  "  it  was  bought 
for  you ;  it  will  be  waiting  for  you." 

"Ah,  that's  what  you've  been  leading  up  to!"  she 
said  sharply,  a  note  of  anger  in  her  voice;  for  the 
love  of  the  jewels  had  left  an  ache. 

"Yes,"  he  said  frankly;  "but  they  are  yours  — 
whenever  you  ask." 

"  Why  don't  you  say  what  you  want  to  say,  Mr. 
Sassoon?  Are  you  so  afraid  of  me?"  she  said,  look- 
ing him  directly  in  the  eyes. 

"  Perhaps ! "  he  answered,  pulling  at  his  mustache. 
"  And  yet,  we  may  as  well  be  open,  hadn't  we?  " 

She  studied  him  a  moment,  and  then  resumed  her 
seat,  making  him  a  peremptory  sign  to  continue. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  express,  perhaps,"  he  said  —  with- 
out, however,  any  trouble  showing  in  his  even  tones. 


360  THE  SALAMANDER 

He  paused  and  looked  at  his  hand,  stroking  it  with  the 
feline  motion  of  his  fingers.  Then  all  at  once  he  be- 
gan: 

"  Miss  Baxter,  I  have  been  careful  to  follow  the 
laws  of  the  game  you  laid  down,  haven't  I?  I  have 
taken  care  not  to  offend  you  by  word  or  action,  haven't 
I?" 

"Well?" 

"  Will  you  let  me  say  this  to  you,  little  girl  ?  "  he 
said,  finding  all  at  once  his  note.  "  You  are  going  to 
make  up  your  mind  very  soon  what  you  want  in  life. 
You  are  too  clever  to  wait  long.  Now,  to  be  quite 
fair,  as  you  pride  yourself  in  being,  you  know  who  I 
am,  and  you  know  what  I  want.  Yet  you  are  willing 
to  see  me,  knowing  that !  " 

She  took  off  the  bracelet  immediately. 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  interest  whether  I  see  you 
or  not !  "  she  said  coldly.  "  To  be  honest,  I  only  care 
to  annoy  you,  to  pay  you  back  for  your  impertinence  at 
your  luncheon,  to  teach  you  a  lesson  that  every  woman 
is  not  for  sale  —  in  a  word,  to  humiliate  you  as  much 
as  I  can !  " 

He  did  not  receive  this  in  anger  —  far  from  it : 
his  eyes  took  on  a  sudden  eagerness,  an  avidity  that  he 
had  hitherto  controlled. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  is  quite  the  truth  —  all  the 
truth  ? "  he  asked,  smiling  his  heavy  ironical  smile. 
"  Are  you  sure  you  haven't  been  a  little  curious  to 
know  what  this  might  mean,  before  you  reject  it? 
No,  don't  fib!"  he  said  quietly,  as  she  turned,  "Is 
there  anything  unnatural  —  extraordinary  in  that? 


THE  SALAMANDER  361 

Don't  you  think  such  ideas  come  into  the  minds  of 
most  women?  If  you  are  going  in  for  a  career,  you 
know  what  you  must  face !  This  world  is  a  ridiculous 
world ;  laws  are  made  to  crush  petty  offenders !  If  you 
allied  your  name  to  a  little  manager,  every  one  would 
scorn  you ! " 

"  And  if  I  were  your  mistress,  Mr.  Sassoon?  Say 
the  word ! " 

"If  you  were,  with  your  cleverness,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  you  would  be  received  wherever  I  wanted  you  to  be 
received :  more,  you  would  be  sought,  courted,  flattered 
by  those  who  want  something  out  of  me.  Or,  if  you 
wanted  a  career,  every  obstacle  would  disappear  at  one 
word!  Ask  any  one,  if  you  want  to  know  the  truth 
of  what  I  say.  That's  the  world,  young  lady."  He 
checked  himself.  "  I  don't  want  to  talk  over  that  — 
now!  You  asked  me  a  direct  question.  This  is  my 
answer.  Accept  me  for  what  I  am  —  considering  me 
as  a  possibility.  It's  worth  it ;  be  sure  that  it  is  a  big- 
ger field  than  a  marriage  of  drudgery  that  ends  your 
liberty.  Consider  me  carefully,  simply  as  an  abstract 
proposition!  Meanwhile,  give  me  credit  for  being 
quite  submissive  and  obedient !  " 

She  remained  thoughtful,  surprised  at  the  keenness 
of  his  insight,  feeling  she  had  underestimated  him,  feel- 
ing, too,  the  dramatic  opposition  of  herself,  little  wan- 
dering atom  of  mediocrity  and  the  great  powers  of 
wealth  that  could  impress  her  so  convincingly  out  of 
the  time-worn  eyes  of  this  bored  man. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  pretty  child?  "  he  said, 
struck  at  her  glance. 


362  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  It  is  only  because  you  can't  have  me ! "  she  said 
abruptly. 

"  Because  you  don't  care  for  what  other  women 
do !  "  he  said  quickly.  "  Because  I  am  tired  —  eter- 
nally tired  —  of  women  who  fling  themselves  at  me! 
Because  you  make  me  follow  you.  Listen!  You 
won't  believe  me  —  it's  true.  You  can  do  anything 
you  want  with  me !  " 

"  Harrigan  Blood  offers  me  himself !  "  she  said  mali- 
ciously, for  she  began  to  have  the  same  instinct  with 
him  as  she  had  with  Massingale,  to  whip  him  out  of 
his  calm  into  a  fury. 

"  Blood !  "  he  said  angrily.  "  Child,  you  would 
hold  a  man  like  that  three  months.  He  would  devour 
you,  crush  you.  That  type  only  feeds  on  women ! 
You  think  I  don't  care!  Do  you  know  that  just  be- 
cause you  turned  up  in  my  life  I've  broken  with  Blood 
— •  that  we  are  fighting  each  other  tooth  and  nail,  that 
I've  caught  him  in  the  market,  and  will  wring  him  for 
forty  or  fifty  thousand  for  daring  to  get  in  my  path !  " 

"  And  he  ?  "  she  cried,  delighted. 

He  noticed  the  joy  in  her,  the  childish  delight 
of  mischief,  which  reckoned  great  disasters  as  a  broken 
vase. 

"  Little  devil !  That's  what  I  like  in  you !  "  he  said, 
with  a  flash  of  his  eyes.  "  Blood  is  hammering  me 
tooth  and  nail.  He'll  put  me  back  three  years,  per- 
haps, tie  me  up  and  cost  me  a  million  or  two  more. 
But  that's  all  the  good  it'll  do  him!  Well,  are  you 
pleased  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  like  that!" 


THE  SALAMANDER  363 

"And  which  is  it  to  be?" 

"  The  bracelet,  please !  " 

He  laughed,  fastening  it  on  her  arm,  taking  no  ad- 
vantage. 

"  You  see  how  domesticated  I  am ! " 

"  You  behave  very  well !  " 

"  Grant  me  one  favor,  then !  " 

"What?" 

"  To  see  your  room,"  he  said  eagerly. 

She  was  about  to  refuse,  when  the  thought  of  Sny- 
der  and  Betty  above  made  her  bite  her  lip  with  malice, 
and  ask: 

"  Well,  for  once !     But  why  ?  " 

"  To  see  what  you  prefer  to  all  you  could  have ! " 
he  said ;  but  he  said  it  impersonally,  bowing  his  thanks, 
resolved  to  school  himself  to  impassibility  and  patience. 

No  sooner  had  they  reached  her  room  than  he  com- 
prehended her  trap.  But  it  was  too  late  to  retreat. 
He  was  forced  to  make  the  best  of  it,  submitting  to 
introductions,  pretending  interest  in  the  child  and  the 
tree.  Then,  inventing  a  lie,  aware  always  of  the 
laughter  behind  Dodo's  eyes,  he  drew  a  ten-dollar  bill 
from  his  pocket,  and  addressing  Betty,  said: 

"  Miss  Baxter  was  kind  enough  to  let  me  come  up 
just  for  the  Christmas  tree.  This  is  my  present ;  buy 
anything  you  want !  " 

And  with  a  stiff  bow,  he  fled  from  childish  things, 
cursing  his  deception,  rage  and  avidity  in  his  heart. 
Dodo,  with  shrieks  of  laughter,  threw  herself  rolling 
on  the  bed. 

But  all  at  once  she  rose  anxiously. 


364  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Snyder,  did  he  come  at  twelve  ?  You  know  whom 
I  mean ! " 

"  Yes,  he  came !  " 

"  You  saw  him?     What  did  you  say?  " 

"  Told  him  you'd  been  in  —  gone  out  —  didn't  know 
where !  "  said  Snyder  in  her  jerky  way. 

"  Snyder !  "  she  cried  furiously.  "  Did  he  leave  a 
message  ?  " 

"No!" 

"  Snyder,  don't  deceive  me ! "  she  said  imperatively. 
"Where  is  the  letter?" 

The  woman  shrugged  her  shoulders,  hesitated,  then 
went  to  a  drawer  and  flung  a  letter  on  the  table.  Dodo 
tore  it  open.  It  was  brevity  itself. 

"  Twelve  to  twelve  forty-five. — Why  ?  " 

Though  she  herself  was  at  fault,  the  curtness  of  his 
message  aroused  her  irritation.  She  crumpled  it  in 
her  hands,  then  tore  it  to  pieces. 

"  Very  well !     Now  for  presents !  "  she  said. 

When,  after  the  last  mysterious  box  had  been 
opened  with  rapturous  cries,  dolls  dressed  and  un- 
dressed, enormous  mouthfuls  of  sweets  consumed  and 
crackers  pulled  with  shrieks  of  fear,  Snyder  went  off 
with  Betty  in  a  gale  of  excitement.  Dodo,  left  alone, 
hurried  to  her  presents.  The  harvest  had  been 
abundant;  the  table  shone  with  silver.  Mr.  Peavey 
had  sent  a  magnificent  toilet  set,  Harrigan  Blood  a 
vanity  box  in  gold  which  she  embraced  in  her  delight, 
Blainey  a  brooch  which  had  solid  convertible  quali- 
ties; scarf-pins  and  silverware  abounded.  There  was 


THE  SALAMANDER  '365 

» 

a  set  of  sable  furs  from  Stacey  (heavens!  how  often 
she  had  feared  he  had  not  understood!),  but  only  a 
silver-mounted  umbrella  from  Gilday  (like  a  card  with 
"  P.P.C."  across,  she  thought!).  Massingale's  brace- 
let was  of  exquisite  workmanship,  oriental,  inclosing 
a  talisman  set  in  rubies,  her  favorite  stone.  She 
slipped  it  over  her  wrist,  fascinated  and  content  with 
its  elegance  and  charm,  which  she  associated  always 
with  him.  Overcome  by  remorse,  she  hastened  to  the 
telephone.  She  tried  his  club,  but  he  was  not  in.  She 
left  her  number,  and  hurriedly  sent  off  a  note  by  Jose- 
phus,  promising  to  explain  all,  a  note  full  of  healing  af- 
fection and  contrition,  giving  him  a  rendezvous  for 
nine  precisely.  Then  she  ran  down  the  stairs,  and  hur- 
ried back  to  her  patient. 

He  was  awake,  waiting  her  coming,  and  the  nervous 
longing  in  his  eyes  changed  to  peaceful  contemplation 
as  she  came  daintily  in. 

"  I  hoped  you  wouldn't  wake  up  until  I  got  back," 
she  said,  throwing  off  her  new  furs  and  raising  her 
little  toque  from  her  tomboy  golden  curls,  which 
seemed  to  dance  in  joyful  liberation.  The  red  snap 
of  the  chill  snow  was  on  her  cheeks,  in  her  eyes  unmis- 
takable eagerness  to  be  back. 

He  saw  it,  and  smiled  too,  beckoning  her  with  a  lit- 
tle motion  of  his  outstretched  hand.  Then  his  glance 
went  anxiously  to  Clarice ;  but  she,  as  if  interested  only 
in  the  furs,  bore  them  out  of  the  room.  Dodo  took  her 
chair  by  his  side,  looking  down  happily. 

"  Many  presents  ?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

She  nodded  gaily. 


366  THE  SALAMANDER 

"Heaps!" 

He  put  his  hand  under  the  pillow  and  drew  some- 
thing out.  He  held  it  a  moment  in  his  hand,  his  fist 
closed  over  it. 

"  My  present." 

"  Really  ?  "  she  said,  clasping  her  hands. 

He  watched  her  hungrily,  devouring  every  fugitive 
flash  of  youth  and  beauty.  Then  he  held  up  a  ring,  a 
diamond  flanked  by  two  rubies,  in  an  old  setting. 

"  It's  been  in  the  family  —  long  time.  My 
mother's,"  he  said. 

But  Dodo,  drawing  back,  confused,  touched,  re- 
sisted. 

"  Oh,  no !  I  couldn't !  It's  much  too  valuable. 
Please,  please  don't  ask  it !  " 

"Too  valuable?"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  anger. 
"  For  you  ?  Give  me  your  hand  —  left,  please !  " 

As  she  started  to  protest  further,  he  closed  his  eyes 
wearily.  She  stopped  instantly,  afraid  of  over-excite- 
ment. If  he  wanted  anything  that  she  could  give  him, 
it  was  his. 

"  Here,  Garry !  "  she  said.  "I  —  it's  because  —  I 
am  overwhelmed !  " 

He  took  her  hand,  discarding  with  a  smile  the  fin- 
ger she  offered,  choosing  the  one  that  was  reserved  for 
the  pledge  of  lovers,  and  before  she  knew  it,  slipped  it 
on.  She  caught  her  breath,  and  a  sharp  pain  seemed 
to  go  through  her.  She  could  not  refuse;  yet  to  ac- 
cept seemed  a  treason. 

"  It  doesn't  bind  you  —  means  everything  to  me ! " 

"  Does  it  ?  "  she  said,  suddenly  pliant. 


THE  SALAMANDER  567 

The  Hght  in  his  eyes,  struggling  out  of  the  shadows 
of  defeat,  alone  was  her  answer.  She  made  a  quick 
reservation.  If  this  could  mean  anything  to  him,  could 
help  him  in  any  way,  had  she  a  right  to  withhold  it? 
When  he  had  conquered,  when  he  was  strong  again, 
when  he  saw  her  with  clear  eyes  as  she  was,  so  far  re- 
moved from  him  —  then  she  would  tell  him,  and  he 
would  at  least  revere  her  memory.  She  felt  a  lump  in 
her  throat,  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and  a  wetness  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Wish  it  on,  then !  "  she  said,  laughing  merrily. 
"  Do  you  believe?  " 

"  I  will  believe !  "  he  said  gravely. 

Then  he  chuckled  at  this  bit  of  boy-and-girl  senti- 
ment, and  she  laughed  back.  It  was  so  good  to  be 
there  —  so  soul-satisfying ! 

A  little  before  nine,  with  a  promise  to  drop  in  later 
for  a  few  minutes,  she  went  back  to  keep  her  appoint- 
ment with  Massingale.  But  she  was  conscious  of  a 
little  regret,  an  unwillingness  to  leave  the  quiet  moods 
into  which  she  had  come.  Then,  there  would  have  to 
be  explanations,  something  invented, —  for  she  could 
not  tell  him  the  truth, —  and  the  thought  of  complaints 
and  replies,  discussion  and  fencing,  all  the  nervous 
play  and  struggle  of  the  last  weeks  repeated,  fretted 
her  and  left  her  impatient.  But  when  she  had  waited 
in  her  room  until  nine,  and  another  half-hour  had 
dragged  on  without  his  coming,  she  was  a  bit  alarmed. 
She  went  slowly  to  the  telephone,  hesitating  and  de- 
liberating. Then  she  stopped,  shook  her  head  and  re- 
turned. 


368  THE  SALAMANDER 

All  at  once  the  door  of  Winona's  room  opened,  and 
the  tall  dark  figure  of  the  girl  remained  in  the  open- 
ing, silently,  her  hand  on  the  knob,  hesitating. 

Dodo  gave  a  little  exclamation  and  drew  back 
against  the  table,  her  head  thrown  back,  proud, 
wounded  and  unrelenting. 

This  silent  confrontation  lasted  a  long  moment  be- 
fore Winona  said  slowly : 

"  Won't  you  let  me  come  in  ?  " 

Dodo  was  human,  and  the  offense  against  her  had 
been  the  blackest  in  the  Salamander  code.  She  felt 
no  softness  in  her  heart.  After  what  she  had  done, 
the  old  confidential  relations  could  never  be  renewed: 
what  was  the  use  of  pretending?  So  she  answered 
coldly : 

"  Why  ?  There  was  no  excuse  for  what  you  did  — 
absolutely  none ! " 

Winona,  very  calm,  reflected  a  moment;  then  she 
answered  abruptly : 

"  I  know !  I'm  not  asking  forgiveness ! "  And, 
with  a  decision  that  astonished  Dodo,  she  entered,  say- 
ing, "  No  one  will  come —  for  half  an  hour  at  least? 
I've  got  something  I  must  talk  out,  you're  the  only  hu- 
man being,  Dodo  —  I  must  talk  to  some  one,  or  I  shall 
go  mad ! " 

The  obstinate  reckless  force  in  her  words  and  ges- 
tures completed  Dodo's  astonishment.  Instead  of  a 
suppliant,  Winona  had  assumed  control  of  the  situa- 
tion. She  hesitated,  on  the  point  of  an  angry  refusal. 
But  Winona  had  not  come  to  ask  for  forgiveness  — 
for  what  then  ?  She  turned  on  her  heel,  sat  down  and 


THE  SALAMANDER  369 

folded  her  arms  aggressively,  looking  her  sternest. 
Winona  immediately  placed  herself  before  her,  never 
avoiding  her  gaze,  speaking  abruptly,  as  if  in  a  hurry, 
with  hard  cruel  notes  in  her  voice : 

"  Dodo,  you  were  the  only  true  friend  I  had  in  the 
world ;  you  did  everything  for  me ;  and  I  tried  to  take 
from  you  a  man  who  means  nothing  to  you.  You  have 
a  dozen, —  twenty,  if  you  wish, —  and  I  had  none !  I 
was  desperate!  I'm  saying  no  more  —  what's  the 
use  ?  You  wouldn't  forgive  me  —  I  wouldn't  if  I  were 
you;  and,  if  you  did,  would  that  change  matters? 
No!  Some  day  —  you  will  see  matters  differently." 
She  stopped  at  an  angry  gesture  of  negation  from  the 
seated  girl,  and  repeated,  with  a  smile  full  of  bitter- 
ness :  "  Some  day  —  yes,  remember  what  I  say !  " 
For  a  moment,  through  the  hardness  of  her  mood,  a 
little  bit  of  the  old  Winona  appeared,  gentle  and  tender, 
as  she  looked  down  with  the  first  trace  of  remorse; 
but  she  crushed  it  immediately,  and  continued  almost 
mechanically,  as  if  reciting  a  piece  committed  to 
memory : 

"  What  I  tell  you  now,  I  tell  you  because  you  are 
the  only  one  I  can  trust,  and  because,  no  matter  what's 
happened,  you  are  the  one  I  want  to  understand.  I 
have  been  married  for  five  years !  " 

At  this  incredible  announcement  Dodo  let  her  arms 
fall,  half  rising  from  her  seat,  open-mouthed. 

"Married!" 

"  Five  years !  "  Winona  repeated,  shrugging  her 
shoulders.  "  Legally,  that's  all.  Don't  interrupt  me ; 
I  want  to  get  it  over.  I  lived  in  a  God- forsaken  fish- 


370  THE  SALAMANDER 

ing  village  on  the  Maine  coast  —  God-forsaken  eight 
months  of  the  year,  waking  up  in  the  summer  for  a 
few  city  folks,  second-class,  who'd  come  down  for 
three  months,  four  months,  to  keep  us  going  the  rest  of 
the  year.  Father  was  a  decent  sort,  sea  captain,  fuss- 
ing about  a  couple  of  cat-boats  in  the  summer,  lazy,  but 
kind.  My  mother  was  a  devil  if  ever  there  was  one; 
but  she  worked  hard,  washing,  cooking.  She  couldn't 
read  or  write.  Why  he  married  her  —  don't  know ! 
Because  she  got  him  with  her  good  looks,  probably,  the 
looks  she  passed  down  to  my  sister  and  me!  There 
were  eight  in  the  family,  and  we  were  the  eldest  — 
village  belles.  Morals  weren't  any  too  strict  there; 
lord,  why  should  they  be?  With  everything  gone  to 
rot,  no  hope,  no  life,  just  existing,  dragging  through 
one  month  after  another  —  sleet,  ice  and  wind,  and 
nothing  ahead  but  to  get  old!  All  right,  when  you 
didn't  know  that  something  else  existed  over  on  the 
mainland !  That  was  the  trouble !  They  educated  us 
—  sent  us  over  for  a  year's  high  school  at  New  Bed- 
ford, to  stay  with  an  aunt. 

"  New  Bedford !  Lord,  I  thought  it  was  a  wonder- 
land then ;  Boston  and  New  York  couldn't  be  any  finer. 
Then  she  brought  us  back,  to  help  in  the  living,  to  wait 
on  the  table  when  the  boarders  came,  to  end  up  by  mar- 
rying—  work  for  some  man  who'd  sit  around,  to  be 
fed  and  clothed,  to  have  his  house  cleaned  —  chil- 
dren and  all  the  rest." 

She  stopped  a  moment,  frowning,  and  Dodo,  over- 
whelmed at  this  picture  of  isolation  and  drudgery,  that 
started  before  her  eyes  in  the  gesture  and  the  voice  of 


THE  SALAMANDER  371 

the  girl,  who  seemed  to  have  returned  to  it  all,  ex- 
claimed : 

"But  why  tell  me?" 

Without  noticing  the  interruption,  Winona  contin- 
ued, speaking  as  if  to  herself,  seemingly  unconscious 
of  Dodo's  presence: 

"New  Bedford  and  summer  boarders!  That  was 
the  whole  trouble!  I  was  eighteen,  sister  twenty,  and 
the  village  belles !  We  used  to  get  out  of  the  windows, 
nights,  and  steal  off  for  a  dance,  every  chance  we  got. 
Lord!  it  was  innocent  enough,  considering  what  the 
other  girls  were  doing ;  but  she  —  the  mother  —  when- 
ever she'd  catch  us,  she  used  to  go  stark  out  of  her 
mind,  swear  we  were  disgracing  her,  bringing  shame 
on  the  family,  insinuating  —  well,  everything!  That 
wasn't  all !  She  tied  us  up  and  beat  us  with  a  strap  — 
yes,  just  that !  —  until  she  couldn't  beat  or  shriek  at  us 
any  more.  But  that  didn't  stop  us !  It  only  made  us 
hate  everything  —  her,  the  home,  the  life!  Once  she 
beat  my  sister  so  that  they  had  to  call  in  a  doctor. 
The  next  week  she  ran  off  —  disappeared."  Winona 
drew  a  long  breath,  and  her  arm  swept  toward  the 
trackless  city,  lowering  at  their  window-sides: 
"  Never  a  word.  God  knows !  The  worst,  I  guess  — 
here,  perhaps  —  somewhere ! 

"  She  wanted  me  to  go  with  her ;  I  hadn't  the  nerve. 
Besides,  there  was  a  city  fellow,  clerk  in  a  shoe  store, 
who  was  taken  with  me,  and  I  thought  —  I  was  sure 
—  would  marry  me  and  get  me  out  of  it.  But  noth- 
ing ever  came  of  that.  After  my  sister  went,  she,  the 
mother,  never  beat  me  again.  Father  had  had  some 


372  THE  SALAMANDER 

words  with  her,  I  guess.  Only  it  was  worse!  She 
had  bars  put  in  my  window,  and  she  never  let  me  out 
of  her  sight  in  summer.  When  she  went  to  bed  she 
locked  me  in  herself.  She  swore  she'd  keep  me,  at 
least,  an  honest  girl.  Two  years  of  that.  God  knows 
how  many  times  I  thought  ot  ending  it  all! 

"  Then  there  was  an  old  fellow  from  the  city,  who 
had  come  down  ten  years  before,  and  stayed.  Been 
a  gentleman,  or  something  near  it.  Drink  was  the 
trouble  —  but  a  quiet  sort  of  an  old  bachelor.  Took 
over  the  little  ramshackle  store,  living  by  himself  with 
a  regiment  of  cats.  There'd  been  something  back  in 
his  life  —  scandal  about  something  or  other:  none 
of  us  ever  got  the  truth,  but  it  took  the  ambition  out 
of  him.  He  didn't  care.  He  rather  liked  the  old 
hole,  I  think.  The  store,  you  know,  was  the  social 
center.  Anyhow,  he  got  sort  of  hold  of  himself,  and 
prospered. 

"  Now,  what  I  did,  I  did  myself.  I  made  him  fall  in 
love  with  me  —  oh,  it  wasn't  difficult !  I'd  known  for 
a  long  time  what  was  back  of  his  eyes ;  only  —  well,  I 
was  the  belle,  and  every  one  was  after  me,  and  he'd 
sense  enough  to  know  that  a  prize  like  that  wasn't  for 
him,  at  fifty-five.  Well,  the  rest  isn't  important;  be- 
sides, it  was  easy.  He  got  infatuated,  as  I  meant,  and 
when  it  was  time  I  made  a  bargain.  I  had  talked  him 
into  believing  I  would  have  a  career;  only  it  wasn't 
that  —  I  wanted  to  get  away !  And  one  afternoon  in 
December,  with  the  snow  piling  up  against  the  door, 
when  we  were  alone  in  his  store,  I  made  my  bargain 
—  over  the  counter  just  like  any  other  sale. 


THE  SALAMANDER  373 

"  He  was  to  supply  me  with  money  for  three  years, 
and  at  the  end  of  that  time,  if  I  was  a  success,  he  was 
to  join  me;  if  I  failed,  I  was  to  go  back,  forget  and 
take  up  the  old  life  again.  It  sounds  queer  perhaps; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  played  many  scenes  before  I  got 
him  to  that.  I  was  clever  then;  I  was  only  twenty- 
one!  Then — >well,  I'd  put  the  longing  for  me  into 
him,  and  it  was  a  bargain  like  any  other.  I  wanted! 
five  years,  but  he  stuck  for  three.  I  wanted  an  en- 
gagement only,  but,  though  he  was  crazy  for  me,  he 
was  too  canny.  So  we  compromised:  I  met  him  in 
Boston,  and  we  were  married  secretly,  and  I  left  him. 
the  same  day.  He  took  me  to  the  train  and  put  me  on 
board,  shaking  like  a  fever,  looking  at  me  with  eyes 
big  as  saucers. 

"  That  was  four  years  ago.  I  did  not  go  back,  and 
he  stopped  sending  me  money.  I  wrote  him  a  hun- 
dred lies  —  told  him  I  must  have  another  year  by  my- 
self, that  I  had  a  big  opportunity,  that  I  was  sure  to 
succeed,  that  he  had  not  given  me  enough  time,  every 
excuse.  But  he  stopped  my  money  short,  told  me 
when  I  was  ready  I'd  got  to  come  to  him  — " 

She  stopped,  drew  in  her  breath,  and  then  burst  out 
fiercely : 

"  God !  I  may  be  a  wicked  woman,  but  how  I  have 
waited,  how  I  have  prayed,  to  be  delivered  from  him ! 
Yes,  prayed  on  my  knees  for  him  to  die  —  to  make  me 
free,  to  give  me  a  chance!  But  what's  the  use?  I 
thought  I  was  so  clever!  Clever?  .  .  .  I'm  a  stupid 
little  fool!  Career?  I  haven't  the  ghost  of  a  show! 
I  know  it  now !  There's  no  more  hoping !  I've  had 


374  THE  SALAMANDER 

chance  after  chance;  what  good  did  they  do  me? 
That  last  one  —  that  opened  my  eyes !  Blainey's 
right;  he  didn't  mince  words.  It  was  what  I  needed; 
it  convinced  me!  But,  God!  if  he  would  only  die!  " 

Dodo  had  sat  breathlessly,  even  shrinking  back  in  her 
chair,  before  these  passions  in  the  raw,  flung  out  with- 
out pretense  of  concealment,  horror-stricken. 

"  But  what  will  you  do  then  ?  "  she  cried,  terrified 
at  the  expression  in  Winona's  eyes. 

The  girl's  eyes  came  to  hers,  cold,  resolved,  dis- 
dainful; but  she  did  not  reply.  A  horrible  thought 
suddenly  possessed  Dodo,  as  of  an  ominous  echo  out 
of  her  own  past. 

"  You  won't  go  back !  "  she  cried,  shuddering. 

"  Go  back  to  that  ?  To  that  loneliness,  that  starva- 
tion, that  slavery,  after  knowing  this?  "  she  cried  fu- 
riously, clenching  her  fist  and  starting  back.  Then 
she  caught  herself,  looked  away,  and  presently  turned, 
calm,  with  a  light  of  bitter  mockery  on  her  set  face. 
"  No !  That  is  one  thing  I  won't  do !  " 

She  dropped  her  fist,  which  had  been  pressed  to  her 
throat,  with  a  short  rough  gesture  of  finality,  and  went 
directly  to  her  door. 

"  Whether  you  come  to  forgive  me  or  not,"  she  said, 
"  if  I  ever  can  help  you,  Dodo,  save  you  from  any- 
thing, come  to  me !  " 

And  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  closed  and 
locked  the  door. 

For  minute  on  minute  Dodo  remained  as  she  had 
sprung  up,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  her  knuckles  pressed 
tensely  against  the  sharp  contact  of  her  teeth,  thinking, 


THE  SALAMANDER  575 

hesitating,  torn  by  conflicting  impulses.  Had  Winona 
dramatized  her  story,  as  she  herself  had  done  a  hun- 
dred times?  Was  it  all  true,  or  only  half  true?  If 
it  were  true,  then  what  had  she  sought  with  Peavey,  if 
not  to  be  his  wife  —  what,  then?  Only  Peavey  could 
tell  her,  make  her  certain  of  the  truth  or  falsity  of  this 
story.  And  yet,  there  were  accents,  cries  of  the  soul, 
despair  of  the  eyes,  that  were  too  poignantly  felt  to  be 
counterfeited!  Dodo  tiptoed  to  the  door,  listening. 
From  the  other  side  came  the  regular  tread  of  a  pac- 
ing step,  regular  and  nervous;  but  of  weeping  no 
sound!  She  remained  still  a  moment,  her  hand 
pressed  to  her  breast,  irresistibly  drawn  to  belief. 
Had  Winona  opened  the  door  at  the  moment,  she 
would  have  caught  her  in  her  arms. 

Then  she  remembered  Lindaberry,  staring  into  the 
horror  of  the  night  —  into  the  long  wakeful  darkness ; 
and  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  departed  hurriedly: 

"  To-morrow  I  will  go  to  her.     It  can  not  be  a  lie !  " 

She  found  Lindaberry  flushed  with  a  sudden  fever, 
that  burned  brightly  on  his  worn  cheeks  and  in  the 
luminous  brilliant  eyes,  which  scarcely  recognized  her. 
Doctor  Lampson  was  there.  It  was  an  attack  of  influ- 
enza, brought  on  by  exposure  and  the  drain  on  his  vi- 
tality, which  might  be  serious  in  his  present  condition. 

She  remained  obstinately  all  night,  sharing  the 
watches  with  Clarice.  The  fever,  which  flared  up 
fiercely  at  first,  subsided  somewhat  with  the  coming  of 
the  day,  leaving  him  quiet,  but  in  a  dangerously  weak 
condition.  When  again  she  had  the  opportunity  to 
return  to  her  room,  she  remembered  Winona.  The 


376  THE  SALAMANDER 

fear  of  what  might  happen  to  the  wasted  man  at  whose 
bedside  she  had  watched,  the  cleansing  of  the  spirit 
which  the  single  thought  of  death  had  brought,  had 
washed  away  all  bitterness.  She  opened  the  door 
with  longing,  her  arms  ready.  The  room  was  empty, 
the  bed  untouched !  In  the  center  a  trunk  stood  locked 
and  corded.  When  she  returned  again  in  the  after- 
noon, even  the  trunk  had  disappeared.  Miss  Pirn, 
who  arrived  with  professional,  calculating  eye,  an- 
swered her  outpouring  of  questions  by  a  magnificent 
gesture  of  disdain. 

"  Said  she  was  going  to  a  house-party  —  for  a 
week.  That's  what  she  said!  H'm,  I've  got  the 
trunk,  if  I  haven't  got  two  weeks'  board!  We  shall 
see  what  we  shall  see !  /  have  my  suspicions !  " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

DURING  the  days  in  which  Lindaberry  lay  weak 
and  shattered,  slowly  struggling  back  to  strength 
and  a  new  grip  on  things,  some  perverse  spirit  seemed 
to  actuate  Dodo  in  her  attitude  toward  Massingale. 
She  had  remained  without  seeing  him  for  forty-eight 
hours  after  Christmas,  refusing  to  make  the  advance 
when  he  had  stayed  away.  Feeling  a  need  of  retalia- 
tion, she  went  to  luncheon  twice  with  Harrigan  Blood 
in  the  short  hours  in  which  she  absented  herself  from 
the  sick-room.  When  finally,  the  third  day,  Massin- 
gale capitulated  and  came  to  see  her,  she  treated  him 
with  the  greatest  indifference,  inventing  new  stories, 
incredible,  but  galling  to  his  pride. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  ?  "  he  said,  without  prelim- 
inaries. 

"  I  have  other  friends  and  other  engagements !  " 
she  said,  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "  Besides,  I  have 
resolved  to  make  it  easier  for  you." 

"Forme?" 

'To  be  just  a  father  confessor!"  she  said  mali- 
ciously. 

He  had  no  answer  that  he  could  phrase,  so  he 
waited,  staring  at  his  boot  in  perplexity,  aware  of  the 
lights  that  were  dancing  in  her  roguish  eyes. 

"  And  dinner  —  Christmas  dinner?  " 
377 


378  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Engaged,  too;  my  other  friends  don't  leave  things 
to  chance ! " 

"  Why  do  you  treat  me  this  way?  "  he  asked,  frown- 
ing. 

"  What  way?  I'm  sure  I'm  very  nice  to  you!  I'm 
not  even  angry  because  you've  been  sulking  all  this 
time!" 

She  stood  before  him,  laughing,  her  head  on  one 
side,  her  hands  on  her  hips.  He  made  a  movement  as 
if  to  seize  her,  and  she  sprang  away. 

"  Don't  let's  quarrel;  I've  been  quite  miserable!  " 

"  Serves  you  right !  "  she  said,  unrelenting,  deter- 
mined to  teach  him  by  a  bitter  lesson  what  punishment 
she  reserved  for  rebels. 

At  this  moment  his  eye  perceived  the  ring  that  Lin- 
daberry  had  placed  on  her  finger.  At  the  same  instant 
she  caught  his  glance,  and  flourished  her  hand  tanta- 
lizingly  before  his  eyes. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful?" 

"What's  that  mean?" 

"  It  means  I'm  engaged ! "  she  said  demurely. 

"  Who  lent  you  that  thing?  " 

"  I'm  a  very  mysterious  person,"  she  said  gravely. 
"  Look  out!  Some  day  you'll  find  me  married  before 
you  know  it !  " 

He  looked  at  her  with  his  intimidating,  magisterial 
stare. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  frighten  me  at  all,  Your  Honor ! " 
she  said,  making  a  face. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  you  say !  You've  bor- 
rowed the  ring,  and  you've  made  ready  a  fine  story; 


THE  SALAMANDER  379 

\ 

but  I'm  not  going  to  give  you  the  pleasure.     Will  you 
dine  with  me?  " 

"  Previous  engagement !  " 

"  With  your  fiance,  of  course?  " 

"Quite  right!" 

"  That's  serious  ?  "  he  said,  rising,  and  containing 
his  wrath  with  difficulty. 

"  Very  serious !  " 

"Good-by,  then!" 

"  Au  revoir  or  good-by?  " 

"  Good-by !  "  he  said  dryly  and  with  emphasis. 

She  accompanied  him  to  the  door  with  a  well  simu- 
lated mask  of  tragedy,  shook  hands  gravely,  and  sud- 
denly, with  a  burst  of  laughter,  called  after  him: 

"  To-morrow  —  here  —  same  hour !  If  you're  not 
on  time  you  won't  find  me !  " 

The  next  day  she  told  him,  very  seriously,  the  story 
of  the  ring,  and  with  the  true  spirit  of  fiction,  assimi- 
lating all  that  came  to  her  ear  and  turning  it  into  per- 
sonal experience,  she  profited  by  what  Winona  had 
told  her. 

"  You  are  sure  you  want  to  know?  "  she  began,  with 
a  little  alarmed  air. 

He  nodded  with  a  jerky,  irritated  motion. 

:(  You  will  be  annoyed,"  she  said,  hesitating;  "you 
won't  like  it !  " 

"Begin!" 

"  Very  well !  I've  told  you  often  my  time  is  not 
my  own.  The  truth  is  that  at  any  moment  I  may 
have  to  go  when  I  am  called,"  she  began.  Her  starts 
were  always  rather  jerky  until  the  mood  had  enveloped 


380  THE  SALAMANDER 

her.  Suddenly  she  remembered  Winona  and  dashed 
ahead.  "  The  person  who  gave  me  this  ring  is  an  old 
man,  sixty-five  years  of  age  —  very  rich.  You  have 
often  wanted  to  know  how  I  manage  to  live.  He 
gives  me  the  money.  I  have  signed  a  contract  to 
marry  him  when  three  years  are  up.  There!  Now 
you  know  all !  That  is  my  fate  —  if  he  lives !  To- 
day he  is  desperately  ill." 

She  went  to  the  window,  draping  herself  in  the 
proper  tragic  pose,  gazing  but  into  the  clear  frozen 
twilight,  drawing  a  deep  sigh. 

"  It  was  all  before  I  knew  you  —  when  I  first  came, 
when  I  was  desperate,  without  a  friend,  without  a 
cent !  It  was  either  that  or  — "  She  left  the  window 
abruptly,  overcome  by  the  mood,  and  returning,  sat 
down,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her  head  in  her  hands. 
"  He  is  a  gambler,  a  partner  of  my  father's.  He  fell 
in  love  with  me  there  at  Gold  Fields  —  you  remem- 
ber? When  my  father  was  killed,  he  sent  me  to 
school ;  he  has  always  been  kind,  very  kind.  Wanted 
to  marry  me  afterward,  but  I  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  I 
ran  away.  I  wanted  to  be  young,  to  enjoy  life,  to  live ! 
He  is  very  ugly,  very  old;  his  skin  is  all  spotted  and 
loose,  and  his  eyes  are  watery  and  faded,  and  when  he 
touches  me  I  shiver." 

She  raised  her  head,  staring  before  her,  drawing 
down  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"  I  didn't  see  him  again  until  —  until  I  came  here, 
and  that  was  by  accident.  Everything  had  gone 
wrong!  The  company  I  had  come  with  had  failed; 
I  could  get  nothing  to  do !  It  was  very  black.  There 


THE  SALAMANDER  381 

were  men,  horrible  men,  offering  me  —  you  under- 
stand !  I  sold  newspapers,  in  all  kinds  of  weather,  un- 
til ten  or  eleven  at  night  sometimes,  to  get  enough  to 
eat!  That's  where  he  found  me,  under  an  umbrella 
on  a  street  corner,  in  a  pouring  rain,  a  bundle  of  news- 
papers soaking  under  my  arm.  I  was  crying;  I 
couldn't  struggle  any  more !  He  took  me  to  his  home, 
a  beautiful  place  just  off  Washington  Square.  He 
wanted  me  to  marry  him  then.  I  can  remember  every 
word  he  said : 

"  '  I'm  over  sixty.     I've  lived  hard.     Two  strokes 

—  and  the  next  will  box  me  up.     At  the  worst,  girl, 
it'll  only  be  four  or  five  years  and  then  seven  hundred 
thousand  coming  to  you ! ' 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  might  have  answered,  but  he 
put  out  his  hand  —  wrinkled  chalky  hand !  I  can  see 
it  now  —  and  touched  mine.  Ugh!  But  I  made  the 
bargain  then  and  there,  signed  it  in  black  and  white. 
Three  years  to  do  as  I  please,  and  then  — " 

"  And  the  time  is  up  precisely  on  the  tenth  of 
March?  "  he  said,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  No !  I  have  eight  months  more,"  she  said,  furi- 
ous that  he  should  not  have  been  convinced  by  a  story 
which  had  moved  even  her.  "  Who  knows  ?  He  is 
very,  very  ill ;  it  may  all  be  over  in  a  week !  " 

All  at  once  the  true  effect  flashed  into  her  imagina- 
tion, she  turned,  seizing  him  by  the  coat  violently, 
clinging  to  him,  crying : 

"  Oh,  Your  Honor,  forgive  me  whatever  I  do  these 
days !  I  haven't  told  you  the  truth.  I'm  not  engaged 

—  I'm  married  to  him!     And  it's  horrible  —  it  is  kill- 


382  THE  SALAMANDER 

ing  me !  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do.  I  think  such 
wicked  thoughts.  I  hope  he'll  never  recover!  Can 
you  ever  love  me  now  ?  " 

His  answer  was  effective.  He  swore  a  splendid, 
soul-easing  oath,  adding: 

"  Dodo,  if  ever  I'm  fool  enough  to  believe  you,  I 
deserve  all  I  get!  " 

She  laughed  through  the  tears  which  had  come  nat- 
urally. 

"  So  that's  all  you'll  tell  me !  "  he  said  roughly. 

"  Oh,  there's  always  some  truth  in  what  I  tell  you !  " 
she  answered ;  and  she  had  so  entered  into  the  part,  so 
completely  dramatized  herself,  that  all  that  day  he 
could  not  succeed  in  drawing  her  back  to  plain  mat- 
ter-of-fact. 

But,  despite  all  the  good  humor  he  put  to  her  ca- 
prices, the  determination  to  plague  him  always  re- 
turned to  her  in  some  animal  revulsion  on  leaving 
Lindaberry.  No  sooner  had  she  left  this  quieter  self 
that  she  found  herself  seized  by  the  need  of  violent 
reaction,  to  which  Massingale  did  not  always  suffice. 
Consequently  she  gave  more  time  and  more  oppor- 
tunity to  Sassoon  than  she  ordinarily  would  have  done 
in  prudence.  But  Sassoon,  as  though  the  lion  had 
clipped  his  claws,  never  made  the  slightest  attempt  to 
presume,  acting  mildness  and  docility.  She  even  began 
to  consider  him  as  rather  a  safe  person,  who  could 
always,  in  the  last  test,  be  found  manageable  —  which 
was  exactly  what  Albert  Edward  Sassoon  had 
planned.  Next  mutually  to  provoke  Judge  Massin- 


THE  SALAMANDER  383 

gale  and  Harrigan  Blood,  she  persuaded  them  to 
lunch  en  trois.  The  alacrity  with  which  Massingale 
(who,  since  the  unexplained  ring,  was  suspicious  of 
Blood)  agreed  where  she  expected  resistance,  drove 
her  to  too  overt  a  display  of  interest  before  Harrigan 
Blood,  with  his  keen  vindictive  eyes. 

This  luncheon,  the  result  of  one  of  those  unreflect- 
ing impulses  which  seem  so  casual  at  the  time,  was 
destined  to  have  the  gravest  consequences.  Harrigan 
Blood,  suddenly  enlightened  as  to  the  true  state  of 
Dodo's  interests,  perceived  that  the  ruinous  quarrel 
with  Sassoon  had  been  to  no  end,  and  disillusioned 
and  duped,  became  a  bitter  enemy  of  Massingale's : 
for  Blood,  with  all  his  idealism  in  the  domain  of  ideas, 
was  capable  of  petty  and  terrible  vindictiveness  when 
his  desires  were  once  aroused.  This  luncheon,  in  fact, 
cost  Massingale  a  career. 

But  Dodo,  having  thus  roused  Harrigan  Blood  to 
an  extent  to  which  she  little  guessed,  turned  the  ta- 
bles on  Massingale,  who,  claimed  by  the  afternoon  ses- 
sion, was  forced  to  hand  her  over  to  the  escort  of 
Harrigan  Blood  and  see  them  depart  in  the  intimacy 
of  a  closed  automobile. 

'  Thanks !  now  I  know  who  is  my  rival !  "  said  Har- 
rigan Blood  immediately. 

"You  think  so?" 

"  I  know !  "  he  said  pointblank.  Then,  with  a  sud- 
den rage,  he  turned  on  her.  "  Do  you  know  what  you 
have  cost  me  by  making  one  mistake  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said  softly ;  "  Mr.  Sassoon  told  me !  " 


384  THE  SALAMANDER 

He  swore  at  this,  and  went  on: 

"  Look  here !  I  want  to  understand  things ;  I  want 
the  truth !  I  want  some  straight  answers !  " 

He  was  one  of  those  men  of  force  who  believe  that 
they  can  resolve  all  feminine  intrigues  by  bruskly 
bringing  things  to  a  point.  She  smiled  to  herself  at 
this  bull  rushing  toward  a  fancied  light. 

"  Are  you  in  love  with  Massingale  ?  If  so,  I  want 
to  know !  " 

"  I  haven't  made  up  my  mind,"  she  said,  looking 
at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

"  Are  you  playing  a  game  with  me  or  not?  " 

"That  would  be  rather  natural,  wouldn't  it?" 

"What's  that?"  he  said,  amazed. 

"  We  are  rather  different,  aren't  we  ?  "  she  said  qui- 
etly. "  It's  very  easy  for  you  to  make  up  your  mind 
to  put  out  your  hand  and  take  me,  as  you  once  ex- 
pressed it;  that's  not  a  very  great  decision  for  you. 
But  it's  a  little  different,  you  see  —  it  takes  a  little 
longer  —  to  persuade  me  that  I  want  to  be  taken. 
You  are  a  very  poor  hand  at  courting,  Mr.  Harrigan 
Blood ;  you  go  out  to  win  a  woman  as  you  would  bowl 
down  a  lot  of  ten-pins.  Don't  you  see?  " 

"  Lord !  "  he  cried,  angry  at  the  fretting  and  time- 
wasting  she  had  made  him  endure  and  would  further 
inflict  on  him.  "  Will  there  ever  be  a  woman  who'll 
have  the  courage  to  say,  '  I  love  you  as  you  love  me, 
and  let's  dispense  with  all  this  backing  and  filling,  this 
fencing,  this  coquetting  and  vexing  of  the  spirit ! ' 
And  why?  Afraid  that  if  you  give  naturally  you 
won't  be  prized.  That's  the  littleness  about  you 


THE  SALAMANDER  385 

women;  you  can't  conceive  anything  on  a  big 
scale!" 

"  But  I  don't  know  at  all  that  I  love  you !  "  she  said 
quietly.  His  last  words  had  brought  to  her  mind  an 
idea  of  Estelle  Monk's,  which  she  adopted  instantly, 
as  she  had  adopted  Winona's  story.  Even  as  she  be- 
gan she  was  laughing  inwardly  at  the  effect  she  knew 
it  would  bring.  "  Win  me  —  make  me  love  you ! 
You  have  big  ideas ;  so  have  I !  " 

He  came  closer,  putting  his  arm  back  of  her  shoul- 
der, taking  her  hand  with  impulsive  suddenness,  ex- 
cited by  this  first  opportunity  she  had  permitted  him. 

"  Give  me  a  chance,  Dodo !  Let  me  see  you,  like 
this,  but  be  honest  with  me ! " 

"  I'll  be  perfectly  honest,  Harrigan,"  she  said  de- 
murely, smiling  to  herself  at  the  thrill  that  went 
through  him  at  this  first  use  of  his  name.  "  You  are 
very  much  mistaken  if  you  think  I  am  like  other  girls. 
I  want  to  be  honest,  and  I  am  not  afraid.  We  have 
the  same  ideas  about  marriage.  I  want  to  be  a  pio- 
neer, to  have  the  courage  to  lead  the  way!  I'm  not 
an  adventuress.  I  shall  never  be  ashamed  of  what  I 
do !  I  shall  never  marry,  but  when  I  know  that  I  love, 
I  shall  go  to  the  man  of  my  choice  —  openly !  " 

He  placed  her  hand  to  his  lips  enthusiastically. 

"  And  1  shall  let  the  world  know  it!  " 

"What?" 

"  And  I  shall  announce  it  to  every  one !  " 

A  sudden  chill  came  over  his  ardor;  the  hand  that 
had  gripped  hers  so  passionately  felt  all  at  once  limp 
and  discouraged. 


386  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Are  you  serious  ?  " 

"  Absolutely !  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  this  for 
a  long  time !  " 

"  It  isn't  so  easy,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  All  the  better ! "  she  replied  enthusiastically. 
"It'll  show  we  have  the  courage  of  our  convictions! 
That's  what  you  believe  in,  too,  isn't  it?  " 

"H'm  —  yes." 

The  conversation  suddenly  dropped.  He  began  to 
stare  out  of  the  window,  pulling  at  his  short  mustache, 
while  Dodo,  shrunk  in  the  corner,  was  choking  with 
laughter.  When  they  arrived  at  Miss  Pirn's,  she 
could  no  longer  contain  herself.  He  looked  up  sud- 
denly, detecting  her  laughter,  furious. 

"What!" 

"  Oh,  Harrigan  Blood !  "  she  cried,  between  spells 
of  laughter.  "  What  a  chance  you  have  missed  — 
and  you  such  a  clever  man !  " 

"  You  were  making  fun  of  me ;  you  didn't  mean 
it !  "  he  cried  angrily. 

But  Dodo,  waving  a  feeble  handkerchief,  ran  hilari- 
ously up  the  stoop. 

She  returned  from  these  excursions  into  her  dra- 
matic self  to  her  nest,  so  to  speak,  languid  and  eager 
for  calm.  How  did  it  happen  that  she  did  not  attempt 
to  dramatize  herself  with  Lindaberry?  Perhaps  she 
did;  but,  if  so,  it  was  always  as  something  bodiless 
and  mystic,  a  sort  of  dipping  into  a  religious  exalta- 
tion, conceiving  of  herself  as  a  ministering  sister  of 
the  poor,  sexless  and  utterly  unselfish.  But  she 
never,  in  the  long  hours  when  she  sat  by  his  bedside. 


THE  SALAMANDER  387 

prattling  gaily  or  reading  him  to  sleep,  set  sail  on  the 
gentler  seas  of  romance  and  passion.  For  him  she 
had  great  depth  of  tenderness  and  affection,  being  of- 
ten deliciously  moved,  as  she  was  when  Betty's  child- 
ish body  lay  locked  upon  her  heart. 

When  he  welcomed  her  coming  with  a  quick  hail- 
ing motion  of  his  hand,  his  fa.ce  radiant  with  smiles, 
or  when  he  listened,  nodding  or  grave,  fastening  his 
profound  eyes  on  her  as  if  afraid  the  slightest  turn  of 
her  head  would  escape  him,  he  gave  her  a  feeling  of 
long  intimacy ;  yet,  when  she  spoke  to  him,  even  when 
she  drew  closest,  it  was  always  without  the  feeling  of 
passion,  of  the  realization  of  contact,  which  she  always 
felt  with  Massingale. 

Her  idea  of  love  was  more  and  more  something 
unreasoning,  violent  and  stirring,  something  that  up- 
set all  that  had  been  planned,  a  flame  that  consumed 
the  will  —  something  that  was  perhaps  greatest  when 
it  hung  on  the  threshold  of  tragedy,  madness  in  some 
form  or  other,  sweet  and  bitter  —  bitter,  in  the  end,  as 
Tristan  and  Isolde.  At  this  moment  she  could  not 
conceive  of  this  serenity  that  lay  between  her  and  Lin- 
daberry  as  love;  and,  besides,  it  made  her  feel  older, 
as  if  she  were  being  hurried,  as  if  something  fragile 
and  elusive  were  being  stolen  from  her. 

A  curious  thing  —  she  sometimes  had  the  feeling 
that  she  was  married  to  him,  that  she  was  a  wife, 
watching  and  devoted.  It  rather  interested  her  to 
project  herself  thus.  The  feeling  came  to  her  at 
times  strongly,  when  she  rose  to  shift  the  pillows  un- 
der his  head,  as  Clarice  had  taught  her,  or,  watching 


388  THE  SALAMANDER 

his  averted  eyes,  hurried  to  moderate  the  glare  that 
smote  them  from  the  windows. 

Sometimes  she  thought  of  it  with  a  sort  of  regret, 
wishing  that  she  were  not  constituted  as  she  was,  that 
marriage  were  a  possibility,  that  another  had  not 
seized  on  her  imagination  and  awakened  in  her  such 
fever.  Here,  alas !  everything  was  too  permissible ;  it 
lacked  the  element  of  danger,  of  the  forbidden  which 
alone  could  make  the  perfect  Eden.  But  she  felt  with 
him  a  vast  security,  and  a  curious  oneness  of  sympa- 
thies. If  she  were  only  ten  years  older  —  if  she  were 
not  Dodo  — 

But  one  day  an  interruption  from  the  outer  world 
arrived  to  cast  a  stain  of  the  matter-of-fact  across  the 
fragile  fabric  of  this  dream  life.  It  was  the  first  day 
that  he  had  received  permission  to  sit  up  in  a  chair, 
and  the  event  had  been  duly  celebrated  with  much 
gaiety.  Lindaberry,  in  manly  vanity,  had  insisted  on 
taking  ten  steps  alone  without  the  humiliation  of  fem- 
inine support,  but  on- the  return  trip  had  been  forced  to 
capitulate  weakly.  Having  installed  him  again  in  bed, 
while  Clarice  had  hurried  off  for  luncheon,  Dodo  was 
bending  over  him,  supporting  his  back  with  one  arm, 
piling  up  the  pillows,  when  the  door  opened  and  Lin- 
daberry's  brother  entered,  followed  by  Doctor  Lamp- 
son. 

"  Hello,  there,  old  bruiser !  "  he  began,  in  a  rough 
welcome  in  which  a  note  of  anxiety  was  trembling. 
"  You're  a  nice,  brotherly  person !  Why  didn't  you 
send  me  a  telegram  ?  " 

All  at  once  he  stopped,  perceiving  that  Dodo  was 


THE  SALAMANDER  389 

not  in  nurse's  dress.  At  the  same  moment  she  was 
seized  with  a  sudden  embarrassment.  Doctor  Lamp- 
son,  in  the  background,  equally  at  a  loss,  waited,  rub- 
bing his  chin  with  quick  nervous  movements.  Garry, 
engrossed  in  the  joy  of  seeing  his  brother,  did  not  at 
once  perceive  the  situation. 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry,  Jock,  glad  to  see  you !  I'm 
not  all  in  yet,  am  I  ?  Sat  up  —  walked  — "  A  little 
movement  of  Dodo's,  stiffening  and  withdrawing, 
caught  his  eye,  and  recalled  him  to  the  necessity  of  an 
explanation.  He  hesitated  only  a  moment,  a  little 
unprepared,  but  that  momentary  delay  hurt  her  with  a 
sudden  swift  pain. 

"Jock,  I  want  you  to  meet  a  good  angel,"  he  said 
quickly.  He  stretched  out  his  hand,  taking  hers,  and 
turned  proudly :  "  This  is  Miss  Baxter  —  Dodo. 
We  are  engaged  to  be  married." 

Jock  Lindaberry's  face  at  once  lost  the  peculiar  un- 
decided stare  it  had  borne.  He  stepped  forward, 
bending  over  her  hand  with  a  trace  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned courtesy  that  sat  so  naturally  on  Garry. 

But  the  slight  trace  of  awkwardness  which  had  at- 
tended the  explanation,  a  fugitive  sensitive  thought 
that  Garry  had  said  what  he  had  to  save  the  situation, 
—  out  of  noblesse  oblige, —  had  shocked  Dore  in  her 
independent  soul.  She  felt  a  sudden  anger  at  the  in- 
valid, at  the  doctor  who  was  a  spectator,  and  at  the 
brother  who  had  made  such  an  excuse  a  social  neces- 
sity. 

"  Mr.  Lindaberry  is  quite  wrong !  "  she  said  hotly. 
"  And  his  explanation  is  totally  uncalled  for,  whatever 


390  THE  SALAMANDER 

his  motives!  We  are  not  engaged.  I  have  never 
promised  to  marry  him,  and  I  do  not  need  any  such 
excuse  to  account  for  my  being  here.  Mr.  Linda- 
berry  and  Doctor  Lampson  both  know  what  my  mo- 
tives are,  and  I  consider  them  quite  honorable  enough 
to  need  no  apology.  Good  day!  " 

Before  she  could  be  prevented,  deaf  to  the  entreaties 
of  Lindaberry  or  the  expostulations  of  his  brother, 
she  walked  out,  in  a  fine  temper. 

Lindaberry  did  not  understand  in  the  least  the  mo- 
tive of  her  revolt.  He  rather  ascribed  it  to  a  refusal 
on  her  part  to  commit  herself.  The  next  day,  when 
she  came,  he  stammered  out: 

"  Dodo,  look  here.  You  don't  understand !  I'm 
not  taking  things  for  granted  —  I  meant  what  I  said. 
You're  bound  to  nothing.  What  I  — " 

But  she  laid  her  hand  across  his  lips,  frowning. 

"  We  won't  discuss  it !  " 

The  evening  came  when  Garry,  still  with  a  touch 
of  weakness  in  voice  and  in  complexion,  was  ready  to 
go  off  for  a  month  in  the  open  with  Doctor  Lampson 
—  a  hunting  trip  in  the  clarifying  wilds  of  snow-rid- 
den Canada  on  the  track  of  moose:  a  month  in  which 
to  fight  the  first  battles  against  old  habits,  with  the 
strength  of  a  devoted  friend  at  his  side,  far  from  old 
associations,  nightmares  of  interminable  electric 
lights  and  the  battering,  nerve-tiring  hammer  of  New 
York.  He  had  come  doggedly  out  of  the  shadow, 
fortified  by  the  inspiration  a  great  love  had  raised  in 
him.  Not  that  the  fight  was  easy:  on  the  contrary, 
alone  he  never  would  have  conquered.  He  loved,  and 


THE  SALAMANDER  391 

he  felt  resurrected.  He  had  no  fear  of  the  test.  The 
old  manhood,  sharp  and  decisive,  returned.  Some- 
times, when,  on  a  sleepless  night,  he  had  gone  trudg- 
ing, in  greatcoat  and  boots,  for  miles  across  frozen 
sleeping  blocks,  he  would  return  to  her  home,  gazing 
up  at  her  window  with  the  adoration  of  the  Magi. 
For  him  she  was  the  purest  spirit  that  could  exist, 
without  evil  —  without  even  the  power  to  perceive 
ugliness. 

He  had  never  again  referred  to  their  relations  since 
the  unfortunate  introduction  to  his  brother.  He  saw 
her  every  day,  at  every  hour,  but  he  guarded  strictly 
the  retinue  of  friendship,  putting  into  this  self-disci- 
pline a  fierce  pride.  The  result  was  that  she  little  di- 
vined, under  the  soldier,  how  deep  a  love  had  been 
kindled.  She  believed  in  his  gratitude  only;  but  this, 
to  her  independent  romantic  spirit,  raised  an  impos- 
sible barrier. 

She  went  to  the  station  with  him,  alone  in  the  auto- 
mobile, her  hand  in  his  all  the  way.  He  did  not  say 
a  word.  She  spoke  rapidly,  and  then  by  fits  and 
starts,  wondering  at  his  silence.  The  truth  was,  he 
dared  not  permit  himself  a  word,  for  fear  of  the  tor- 
rent which  lay  pent  up  in  his  soul.  Perhaps  had  the 
outburst  come  in  one  wild  moment,  it  would  have 
frightened  her,  given  her  a  new  insight,  satisfied  her 
and  awakened  in  her  other  sides  that  craved  for  ex- 
pression —  the  sides  below  the  serenity  and  the  tender- 
ness that  were  so  ready. 

Doctor  Lampson  met  them  at  the  station,  shooting  a 
queer  little  glance  at  their  quiet  faces.  The  train  was 


392  THE  SALAMANDER 

ready,  the  great  iron  cavern  filled  with  the  monster 
cries  of  steam  animals,  bells  ringing,  crowds  frantic, 
bundles,  trunks,  children,  babies,  rushing  by  in  pande- 
monium. There  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  say 
good-by. 

"Better  be  getting  on  —  better  be  moving!"  re- 
marked Doctor  Lampson,  in  his  nervous  rough  way. 
"Good-by,  Miss  Baxter.  You're  a  trump  —  the  fin- 
est of  the  fine!  I'll  take  care  of  Garry.  He'll  come 
back  like  a  drum-major !  Good-by,  good-by  —  God 
bless  you !  Come  on  now,  Garry ;  come  on." 

He  turned  obligingly  away,  shouting  orders  at  a  cou- 
ple of  negro  porters  staggering  under  valises  and  gun- 
cases.  She  looked  up  at  Garry,  a  lump  in  her  throat, 
thrilled  through  her  misty  eyes  at  the  victory  she  had 
wrought  in  the  erect  and  confident  figure.  Would  he 
take  her  in  his  arms  and  kiss  her,  there,  before  all  the 
people?  She  did  not  care  ...  it  would  only  be  nat- 
ural after  all  she  had  won  for  him.  She  did  not  care 
.  .  .  perhaps,  she  longed  for  this  embrace  without 
knowing  quite  why. 

"  Dodo  .  .  ."  he  began,  and  then  suddenly  caught 
himself,  and  his  great  chest  rose.  He  stopped,  took 
her  hand,  pressed  it  as  though  to  crush  it,  did  not  even 
seek  her  eyes,  turned  and  went  quickly  away. 

"  How  he  reveres  me !  "  she  thought,  tears  rushing  to 
her  eyes.  She  clung  to  the  iron  railing,  her  handker- 
chief to  her  face,  a  sob  in  her  throat,  following  the 
strong  figure,  which  the  crowd  slowly  obliterated. 
Once  she  thought  he  had  turned  and  she  waved  her 
white  signal  feebly  —  not  quite  certain.  It  seemed 


THE  SALAMANDER  395 

supinely  in  her  room,  exposed  to  the  ridicule  of  any 
chance  entrance.  He  glanced  at  his  watch :  forty-five 
minutes  had  already  elapsed.  He  started  up  angrily. 
No!  he  would  endure  no  more!  The  time  had  come 
to  revolt!  He  would  humble  himself  no  longer;  now, 
at  last,  he  would  make  an  end  —  once  and  forever! 
He  went  down-stairs  quietly,  and  into  the  parlor.  It 
was  as  he  had  surmised  —  she  was  not  there.  Only 
one  more  lie!  Then,  resolved,  with  a  feeling  of  lib- 
eration, he  went  up-stairs  again,  took  out  paper  and 
envelope,  and  sat  down  at  her  desk,  saying  to  him- 
self: 

"  This  is  the  end,  thank  God !  She  is  making  a 
fool  of  me;  I  am  only  ridiculous!  Now  to  finish  it!  " 

\Yithout  phrasing  or  hesitation,  he  wrote  with 
rapid  furious  scratches: 

"My  Dear  Girl: 

"You  have  been  very  clever,  and  I -have  been  nothing  but  a 
fool,  but  for  once  you  have  gone  too  farl  Thanks;  it  has 
opened  my  eyes !  It  is  not  only  that  I  do  not  believe  one  single 
word  you  tell  me,  but  that  I  see  what  a  ridiculous  role  you  have 
made  me  play.  Don't  attempt  to  invent  any  new  fiction  —  I 
warn  you,  I  will  not  see  you !  I  leave  you  without  the  slightest 
fear  for  your  future.  You  are  quite  capable  of  taking  care  of 
yourself. 

"  M." 

Prudently  he  affixed  only  his  initial,  sealed  the  en- 
velope, and  rose,  again  glancing  at  his  watch.  It  had 
been  fully  an  hour  and  a  quarter. 

"If  she  is  not  here  in  five  minutes  — "  he  began 
angrily. 

The   door  flew   open,   and   Dodo   rushed   into   his 


396  THE  SALAMANDER 

arms.  He  crushed  the  envelope  clumsily  into  his 
pocket,  and  caught  her  to  him. 

"  Ah,  hold  me  strongly ! "  she  cried,  quivering  and 
breathless.  "  More  —  more !  You  are  so  kind  — 
you  are  so  patient  with  me,  Your  Honor !  And  I  have 
been  so  cruel.  How  I  must  have  plagued  you !  For- 
give me !  Forgive  me !  Forgive  me !  " 

"  It's  nothing  —  nothing ! ?'  he  said,  troubled  with 
her  embrace,  which  had  never  seemed  so  complete  an 
abnegation,  a  surrender  and  a  seeking. 

"  Oh,  I'll  make  it  up  to  you  now !  "  she  cried,  her 
cheeks  wet. 

She  clung  to  him,  craving  affection,  the  pain  of  his 
clutching  arms,  the  strength  of  his  male  body,  in  a 
strange  impulse,  the  inconscient  seeking  from  one 
man  what  another  had  roused.  Did  she  know  herself 
to  whom  she  was  clinging,  or  why  she  had  such  a  wild 
hunger  in  her  sorrow-racked  body?  She  clung  to 
him,  but  she  did  not  cry  his  name! 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

AS  January  went  shivering  into  the  slush  and  fury 
of  February,  and  the  fatal  tenth  of  March  drew 
nearer,  Dodo  found  herself  approaching  the  great  test 
of  her  character.  All  the  different  dramatizations 
that  she  had  permitted  herself,  with  her  joyful  in- 
stinct toward  comedy,  suddenly  loomed  before  her, 
no  longer  trivial  and  facile,  but  reaching  into  serious- 
ness, fraught  with  the  elements  of  tragedy.  Impos- 
sible to  describe  the  fever  of  emotion  into  which  she 
now  plunged,  acting  and  reacting,  perpetually  in  a 
whirl,  avoiding  solitude  and  rest,  trying  every  im- 
pulse, frantically  proceeding  from  one  flirtation  to 
another,  aghast  at  the  necessity  which  she  had  im- 
posed on  herself  of  definitely  choosing  what  her  life 
should  be.  She  was  rarely  in  bed  before  the  wan 
grays  were  scurrying  in  their  pallid  flight  before  the 
dawn,  like  thieves  across  the  city.  She  saw  the 
heavy,  jangling  milk-wagons  plodding  to  their  deliv- 
eries, abhorrent  figures  combing  the  refuse  of  yester- 
day, groups  in  rags  asleep  on  iron  gratings  which  sent 
the  warm  blast  of  underground  furnaces  into 
the  shivering  winds.  Often,  heavy-eyed  and  vi- 
brantly awake,  returning  in  singing  parties  of  four 
or  six  from  long  hours  of  dancing,  she  came  suddenly 
upon  night  shifts  emerging  from  their  slavery  in  the 

397 


398  THE  SALAMANDER 

bowels  of  the  earth,  black  shadows  trooping  up  from 
the  flare  of  kerosene  lamps,  an  underworld  which 
stared  at  the  revelers  in  brutish  hostility. 

She  consumed  the  night  thus  —  fearing  it,  avoid  • 
ing  its  quiet  reflections,  stopping  her  ears  to  its  whis- 
pers of  rules  learned  in  childhood ;  afraid  to  face  God, 
who,  in  her  simple  superstitious  faith,  was  ever  per- 
sonal. She  felt  that  if  she  did  not  recall  herself  to 
Him,  God,  who  had  so  much  to  do,  would  not  notice 
her.  When  she  returned,  she  fell  at  once  into  pro- 
found, dream-driven  sleep  from  which  she  woke  at 
noon,  heavy  and  incredulous,  arousing  herself  into  a 
febrile  energy,  impatient  for  the  whirling  day  to 
start.  At  the  foot  of  the  alcove  she  had  placed  an 
enormous  calendar;  and  each  night,  on  entering,  she 
tore  off  another  sheet  —  counting  the  days  that  yet 
intervened  before  the  coming  tenth  of  March.  In  the 
whole  room  she  saw  nothing  but  these  looming  fig- 
ures, black  against  white,  marking  her  little  allotted 
hours.  She  had  so  little  time  left  to  revel  and  dare, 
to  skirt  the  edge  of  precipices  or  tease  the  leaping 
flames  .  .  .  such  a  little  while  to  be  just  Dodo. 

The  pace  she  set  began  to  tell  on  her  vitality,  to 
proclaim  itself  in  the  hollowing  of  her  cheeks  and  the 
strained  cords  of  the  neck.  Her  eyes  were  never 
quiet,  nor  could  her  body  find  an  instant's  repose. 
Snyder,  who  had  succeeded  to  Winona's  room,  per- 
ceived the  danger,  as  did  Massingale;  but  to  the  re- 
monstrances of  each  Dore  would  run  to  the  calendar, 
half  laughing,  half  serious,  drumming  on  it  with  her 
little  fist,  crying : 


THE  SALAMANDER  399 

"  Pretty  soon  —  pretty  soon.  Can't  stop  now ! 
Soon  it'll  be  over !  " 

It  was  not  simply  three  or  four  intrigues  that  she 
drove  at  once,  but  a  dozen,  keeping  the  threads  from 
tangling,  adding  new  ones  each  night,  for  a  few  days' 
mystification  and  abandonment.  Yet,  despite  the 
nerve-racking  and  exhaustion,  never  had  she  felt  so 
triumphant  or  known  herself  so  desirable.  The  city 
which  once  had  crushed  her  imagination  in  the  first 
despair  of  her  arrival,  the  city  which  she  felt  in 
all  its  moods,  grumbling,  defiant,  waiting  cruelly, 
submissive  or  ominous,  now  rolled  before  her  in  a 
brilliant  succession  of  pleasures,  her  world  and  her 
destiny  —  theater  and  restaurant,  opera  and  cabaret; 
and  everywhere,  in  the  burst  of  lights,  or  languidly 
sunk  in  the  seduction  of  music,  in  the  lure  of  shop- 
windows  was  the  zest  of  precious  temptations  —  dan- 
gers that  it  was  an  ecstasy  to  be  able  to  reject. 
Everything  succeeded  for  her:  Massingale,  Blood. 
Sassoon  the  patient,  Gilday,  Stacey  and  dozens  of 
others.  She  managed  as  she  wished,  arranged  her 
day  so  that  they  never  crossed  one  another,  and  yet 
leaping  from  one  dramatization  to  another.  Never 
had  she  felt  so  confident  of  the  mastery  of  her  desti- 
nies, so  avid  of  the  delicious  draft  of  pleasure. 
She  felt  that  she  was  coming  to  a  supreme  sacrifice, 
self-immolation,  but  that  the  setting  was  superb  and 
the  climax  must  be  magnificent! 

She  adored  the  reckless  threading  flight  of  taxi- 
cabs  through  the  streets,  plunging  into  sudden  open- 
ings, grinding  to  hairbreadth  stops,  rounding  abrupt 


400  THE  SALAMANDER 

corners,  tossed  and  buffeted,  skimming  into  new  per- 
ils. It  was  all  something  of  herself,  her  reckless, 
daring,  danger-loving  self.  Then,  there  was  the  tel- 
ephone, which  called  to  her  twenty  times  a  day:  she 
never  went  to  it  without  a  little  thrill  of  anticipation. 
She  adored  it  as  the  gambler  the  rolling  ball,  this 
mysterious  instrument  which,  with  its  startling  jan- 
gle, could  change  the  complexion  of  a  dull  and  hope- 
less day  and  send  her  swiftly  out  on  some  new  dare, 
throbbing  with  excitement.  She  appreciated  it,  too, 
for  its  mocking  moments  of  conversation,  engage- 
ments to  take  or  to  refuse,  laughing  excuses  or  new 
traps  to  set;  but  it  was  especially  this  quality  of  the 
unexpected  she  adored,  the  possibility  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, after  a  day  of  calculated  planning,  to  throw 
everything  to  the  winds,  to  go  rushing  off  on  the  haz- 
ards of  the  unexpected.  During  this  period  her 
passion  for  the  opera  increased :  Tristan  and  Isolde, 
Boheme,  Tosca,  Manon  —  she  never  let  a  performance 
of  these  favorites  pass  unattended  if  she  could  man- 
age it,  hanging  breathless  on  the  passionate  poignant 
tragedies  at  the  end,  soothed  and  satisfied,  convinced, 
resolved,  saying: 

"  Ah,  yes !  That  is  what  love  is  —  what  it  must 
mean ! " 

At  such  times,  if  she  happened  to  be  with  Mas- 
singale,  she  would  close  her  eyes,  serenely  content, 
her  fingers  fastened  over  his  hand,  clinging,  as  if  her 
arms  were  wrapped  about  him.  She  was  certain  now 
that  this  wras  the  best  —  if  only  she  could  bring  him 
to  the  height  she  wished,  if  she  could  only  make  him 


THE  SALAMANDER  401 

rise  above  the  commonplace  and  know  the  tragic  ec- 
stasy. She  knew  now  that  he  loved  her;  would  it  be 
as  she  wished,  great  enough  to  justify  the  sacrifice 
she  would  willingly  make  to  grasp  the  dream?  Per- 
haps, unconsciously,  at  the  bottom  it  was  necessary 
for  her  to  know  of  what  he  was  capable  before  she 
could  decide  what  she  herself  would  do.  To  force 
him  to  this  was  now  her  one  idea ;  she  was  fiercely  re- 
solved that  what  had  started  as  a  casual  flirtation 
should  redeem  itself  in  a  heroic  flame. 

Besides,  Massingale  had  a  physical  effect  over  her. 
In  the  anticipation  of  his  coming  she  was  always 
nervous  and  excited;  in  his  presence  always  conscious 
of  a  feverish  magnetized  need  of  drawing  closer,  of 
touching  his  hand,  his  arm,  of  the  pressure  of  his 
shoulder  against  hers,  resisting  the  impulse  to  be 
caught  in  his  arms;  and  always  melancholy  and  de- 
pressed on  his  departure.  This  empire  over  her  senses 
was  so  strong,  she  was  convinced  that  this  was  the 
only  way  love  could  show  itself.  She  was  glad,  at 
such  times,  that  the  day  of  decision  was  coming;  for 
if,  in  her  contrary  moods,  she  inflicted  torture  on  him, 
she,  too,  knew  now  what  it  was  to  suffer.  The  strong 
emotions  on  which  she  was  living  had  at  last  aroused 
the  elemental  in  her  below  all  the  mental  hazards  of 
the  girl.  If  she  had  ever  seen  him  clearly,  she  could 
not  now.  She  had  so  completely  visualized  him  in  the 
image  of  what  she  imagined  a  lover  should  be  that  she 
might  have  created  him  herself. 

At  an  earlier  moment  Massingale  might  have  per- 
ceived this ;  but  he  had  now  drunk  too  deep  of  the  nar- 


402  THE  SALAMANDER 

cotic  on  her  lips,  and  followed  too  long  the  firefly 
lights  in  her  eyes,  to  distinguish  fact  from  fancy.  He 
saw  he  could  no  longer  command,  and  he  felt  no 
strength  in  him  to  run  away.  He  was  resigned  to 
letting  her  conduct  them  where  she  willed.  For  he, 
too,  was  in  love  with  love  for  the  first  time  in  his  life; 
yet  it  was  not  a  hungry  scanning  of  future  horizons, 
but  a  profound  melancholic  reflection  over  the  wasted 
past.  He  saw  himself  young,  capable  of  dreams  once 
more,  remembering  the  hours  when  he  fondly  believed 
in  a  great  destiny ;  and  this  longing,  which,  against  his 
reason,  had  fastened  him  to  the  young,  ardent  and 
graceful  girl,  had  she  but  divined  it,  was  the  same  that 
made  Peavey  so  ridiculous  — -  the  yearning  back  to  a 
stolen  youth. 

And  Lindaberry?  Yes;  certainly  she  thought  of 
him  often,  but  as  something  she  had  surrendered,  that 
was  not  for  her  rebellious  life.  It  was  love,  lawless 
and  destructive,  which  she  sought,  not  that  quiet  con- 
tent that  rises  from  the  wells  of  peace  and  serenity. 
She  was  indeed  a  lawless  waif  of  a  law-defying  gener- 
ation, and  her  mind  was  set  on  great  flaming  sensa- 
tions, hating  conventions  and  resolved  on  rebellion. 
She  saw  her  future  in  the  hands  of  Massingale,  Blainey 
—  yes,  possibly  even  Sassoon,  if  the  others  should 
fail;  and  conscious  of  the  fierceness  and  selfishness 
of  her  desires,  she  judged  herself  unworthy  of  Linda- 
berry.  Once  or  twice  she  had  paused  to  consider  such 
a  marriage;  but  the  affection  for  him  which  she 
termed  friendship,  sympathy,  pity  —  everything  but 


THE  SALAMANDER  403 

love  —  was  so  deep  that  she  shrank  from  the  thought 
of  inflicting  harm,  saying : 

"  If  I  married  him,  what  would  come?  " 
For  occasionally  she  looked  her  image  in  the  face, 
judging  it  mercilessly.  Dodo  married,  she  believed, 
would  not  be  Dodo  reformed.  She  would  still  run 
after  adventures,  still  hunger  for  admiration,  still  be 
tempted  to  play  with  other  men  —  many  men  at  once ; 
and  when  she  saw  herself  thus,  she  recoiled  at  the  ruin 
she  might  cause  him,  at  the  thought  of  bringing  an- 
other deception  into  his  life,  of  offering  him  anything 
but  a  complete  self.  But  when  his  rare  letters  came 
she  devoured  them,  and  answered  them  while  yet  his 
words  were  in  her  ears.  Then  she  thought  to  her- 
self, since  it  could  not  be,  at  least  she  wished  she  could 
choose  his  wife  —  some  one  who  would  be  worthy  of 
the  desperate  battle  he  was  fighting,  of  the  big  vision 
that  was  awakening,  of  the  fineness  and  the  gentle 
strength  which  glowed  through  every  page  and  moved 
her  strongly. 

On  the  days  his  letters  came,  Dore  could  hardly 
control  herself  with  Massingale;  she  was  cruel  beyond 
all  reason,  flying  into  a  temper  at  the  slightest  im- 
agined excuse.  Occasionally  they  brought  a  reaction 
against  the  senseless  fever  in  which  she  was  caught, 
against  these  men  of  pleasure  or  craving  who  pursued 
her;  and  abruptly,  throwing  all  engagements  to  the 
winds,  she  flung  herself  back  into  childhood,  in  long 
giggling,  romping  afternoons  with  Betty.  With  Sny- 
der  she  never  really  conversed.  Once  or  twice  the 


404  THE  SALAMANDER 

woman  had  made  as  though  to  open  her  confidence, 
but  there  was  something  that  lay  between  them,  that 
each  was  conscious  of,  that  could  not  be  bridged.  She 
had  ended  by  telling  her  of  her  adventure  with  Linda- 
berry.  He  had  even,  once  or  twice  before  his  de- 
parture, met  Snyder  in  her  room,  and  disapproved  too 
strongly  of  the  friendship.  '  But  Massingale  was  a  sub- 
ject they  could  not  discuss. 

In  the  last  week  of  February  two  events  of  impor- 
tance occurred.  Ida  Summers  was  married,  and  Mr. 
Peavey  returned.  The  news  of  the  engagement  came 
to  Dodo  as  a  great  surprise.  In  the  last  month  she 
had  seen  little  of  the  other  Salamanders,  except  in  the 
confusion  of  gay  parties  —  having  no  time,  and,  be- 
sides, rather  avoiding  them.  Of  Winona  not  the 
slightest  word  had  come.  Miss  Pirn,  who  retained  em- 
battled possession  of  the  trunk,  had  decided  "  sus- 
picions," which  Dodo  did  not  share.  For  her,  the 
worst  of  all  fates  had  occurred:  Winona  had  retro- 
ceded,  gone  back  and  given  up  the  struggle,  overcome. 
Ida  Summers  had  somehow  ceased  to  drop  into  the 
room,  or  rather  their  hours  no  longer  coincided. 
Dodo  was  correspondingly  surprised  when,  one  morn- 
ing as  she  was  rising  heavily  and  against  the  spirit, 
Ida,  a  vision  of  youth  and  health,  burst  abruptly  in  on 
her  with  the  announcement  that  she  was  to  marry 
Tony  Rex,  that  the  \vedding  was  for  that  night,  and 
that  Dodo  would  kindly  attend. 

"  Knocks  you  off  your  feet,  eh  ?  No  more  sur- 
prised than  I  am,  Do!"  she  cried  in  her  exclamatory 
style.  "But,  lord!  what  are  you  going  to  do  when 


THE  SALAMANDER  405 

a  human  detective  agency  like  Tony  camps  on  your 
trail  and  shoos  all  eligibles  away !  " 

"  Tony  Rex !  "  said  Dodo,  with  a  gasp  of  astonish- 
ment. She  was  studying  the  brilliant  beauty  of  the 
girl,  wondering  to  herself  if  she  would  ever  know  what 
chances  she  had  missed. 

"Tony,  God  bless  him!" 

"Why?" 

"Can't  help  myself!  He's  my  kind,  and  I  can't 
fool  him !  "  cried  Ida.  Then  she  continued  enthusias- 
tically :  "  I  say,  Dodo !  I'm  tired  of  all  that  other 
crowd  —  the  stuffed  shirt  brigade,  you  know.  What's 
the  use  ?  I  don't  belong !  Lord !  I'd  rather  link  my 
arm  in  Tony's  and  trolley  it  to  a  hot  dog  and  a  glass 
of  beer,  where  you  can  talk  English,  than  to  stiffen  up 
and  act  refined  with  a  Sassoon  or  a  Charley-boy,  feed- 
ing me  broiled  lobster  in  a  gilded  caff !  It's  not  in  me. 
I  don't  belong  —  thank  God !  " 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  said  Dore  clutching  a  stocking. 

"  Now,  just  a  word  or  two  strictly  on  the  Q.  T.," 
resumed  Ida  anxiously.  "  Tony  is  a  most  hot-headed 
native ;  I  think  it  just  as  well  to  cut  out  all  references 
to  a  few  episodes  in  the  past.  Do  you  get  it  ?  " 

"I  do!" 

"  He  tells  me  I'm  a  blue-eyed  baby  somersaulting 
through  a  wicked  world,  entirely  too  innocent  and  frag- 
ile to  understand  —  ahem!  If  that's  what  Tony 
wants,  why, —  God  bless  him !  —  I  wouldn't  have  him 
disturbed  for  the  world !  Besides  —  lord !  Dodo ! 
I've  been  an  awful  fool;  such  risks  —  whew!  I  wish 
one  particular  party  —  well,  ahem!  It's  to-night,  no 


406  THE  SALAMANDER 

fuss  or  feathers.  That's  Tony's  way,  quick,  on  the 
trigger.  Gets  me.  He's  got  a  best  man :  that'll  make 
a  party  of  four.  Little  Church  Around  the  Corner, 
a  good  blow-out  after  —  Mrs.  T.  Rex!  Why  don't 
you  do  the  same,  Do?  Lord!  I  feel  so  happy  I 
could  jump  fifty  feet  in  the  air  and  bite  the  feathers 
out  of  the  lulubird!" 

The  marriage  was  very  quiet.  The  sudden  solem- 
nity of  Ida  at  the  last,  the  proud  carriage  of  Tony 
Rex,  the  new  sidelong  clinging  of  the  young  wife  to 
her  husband,  half  protection,  half  proprietorship,  the 
glow  in  her  eyes,  the  gay  dinner  and  the  trip  to  the 
station  to  wave  them  Godspeed  on  their  mysterious 
journey  into  the  new  world  —  all  this  impressed  Dodo 
strongly.  At  first  it  seemed  a  sort  of  treason :  she  re- 
sented Ida's  succumbing  to  the  impertinent  mastery  of 
Tony  Rex  —  Rex,  who  always,  with  a  shudder  re- 
called to  her  that  other  figure  who  had  once,  in  the 
forgotten  past,  domineered  likewise  over  her.  But 
the  marriage  service  in  the  little  chapel,  the  quiet  of 
the  party  of  four,  the  feeling  of  solemnity,  the  way 
Ida  had  turned  for  her  husband's  kiss,  oblivious  of 
them,  had  affected  her  curiously.  She  scarcely  no- 
ticed the  best  man  at  her  side.  She  was  thinking  of 
Lindaberry  —  how  happy  he  would  be  if  she  should 
turn  to  him,  if  she  could  feel  as  Ida  did !  Lindaberry 
was  in  her  thoughts  all  the  evening,  and  again  in  her 
dreams  that  night.  The  next  day  she  refused  to  see 
Massingale  at  all. 

Mr.  Peavey  arrived  two  days  later,  and  the  moment 
she  entered  the  musty  parlor  where  he  was  fidgeting 


THE  SALAMANDER  407 

before  the  mirror,  waiting  to  take  her  out,  she  realized 
that  a  crisis  was  approaching1.  Luckily,  another 
couple  were  by  the  window,  impatient  for  their  depar- 
ture, talking  in  stilted  phrases.  Their  greeting  was 
therefore  formal. 

"  Glad  to  see  you !  " 

"  Been  an  age,  hasn't  it?  " 

"Shall  we  go?" 

They  went  immediately  to  his  automobile,  where  it 
seemed  to  her  that  Brennon,  the  chauffeur,  sent  her  a 
knowing  glance  from  a  malicious  eye. 

"  I  must  leave  right  after  for  Boston,"  he  said  hur- 
riedly. "  I'm  sorry,  but  I'll  be  back,  the  end  of  the 
week,  for  good.  I  broke  the  trip  just  to  see  you  — 
first  chance." 

"  What  a  lot  of  traveling  you  have  to  do !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  assented ;  "  but  it  has  been  worth  it. 
Things  have  worked  out  marvelously  —  better  than  I 
hoped.  In  a  year  I  can  retire:  you've  brought  me 
luck!  I'll  tell  you  later." 

He  stopped,  drawing  a  long  breath,  frowning  but 
happy.  The  joy  she  saw  on  his  face  made  her  guess 
what  he  would  have  to  announce,  and  set  her  busy  im- 
agination planning  for  some  means  to  postpone  an  is- 
sue. They  entered  the  restaurant  of  one  of  the 
quieter  hotels.  A  table  was  already  reserved,  in  a  se- 
cluded corner,  somewhat  removed  from  the  crowd, 
which  had  not  yet  begun  to  pour  in. 

While  he  busied  himself  with  the  ordering,  she 
studied  him,  seeking  some  way  to  escape  the  proposal 
that  she  saw  coming,  as  one  sees  an  inevitable  collision 


4o8  THE  SALAMANDER 

on  a  narrow  road.  Above  everything  in  the  world, 
she  wished  to  prevent  a  spoken  offer.  She  was  sure 
that,  for  the  present,  he  did  not  represent  a  possibility ; 
but  there  were  unsounded  currents  in  the  future  of 
which  she  knew  nothing.  At  the  bottom  there  was  in 
her  a  prudent  streak :.  she  did  not  like  to  burn  her 
bridges.  Despite  all  the  license  she  permitted  her 
imagination,  there  was  always  back  of  it  all  a  sober 
second  sense.  She  wished  to  keep  him  as  a  friend  un- 
til she  was  at  least  certain  of  other  things  —  even 
perhaps  as  a  refuge,  if  that  were  possible,  for  what- 
ever turn  fate  might  play  her  in  the  coming  years. 

She  was  not  quite  certain  that  it  was  possible  to 
achieve  this  tour  de  force,  but  she  intended  to  try ;  for, 
curiously  enough,  she  doubted  Massingale  not  so  much 
now,  in  the  impulses  of  his  infatuation,  but  beyond,  in 
the  hazardous  months  that  must  succeed.  Up  to  the 
present  she  had  two  refuges ;  Blainey,  who  would  con- 
tinue steadfast,  and  Peavey,  who  was  a  problem. 
They  had  always  been  fixed  points  in  her  moments  of 
greatest  recklessness.  Youth  was  a  madness;  but, 
after  that,  what?  And  whom  to  lean  upon?  With 
these  thoughts  in  mind,  she  looked  at  Peavey's  honest 
simple  features  with  a  feeling  of  tenderness  and  won- 
der. If  the  end  of  the  romance  were  tragedy  and 
disillusion,  would  he  forgive  her?  Would  she  find 
there  the  charity  — 

"  I  owe  you  an  explanation,  Miss  Baxter,"  Peavey 
began  abruptly.  Then  he  hesitated,  and  rearranged 
the  knives  and  forks.  "  Your  letter  caused  me  great 


THE  SALAMANDER  409 

pain  —  the  greatest !  I  would  have  come  back  in- 
stantly, if  it  had  been  possible  without  sacrificing  things 
I  had  set  my  heart  on." 

"  I  was  very  much  surprised ;  hurt,  too ! "  she  said 
gravely.  "  I  have  always  thought  of  you  —  well,  as 
different,  don't  you  know  ?  " 

He  bit  his  lip,  and  brought  the  knives  over  to  the 
forks. 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  misjudge  me?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  what  to  think !  " 

"I  —  I  don't  quite  know  how  to  explain.  I  did 
not  realize  Miss  Homing's  character.  She  confessed 
to  me  that  she  was  in  want;  I  thought  of  her  as  your 
friend." 

"And  you  helped  her?"  she  said,  instantly  alert. 

"  It  was  not  much." 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said  seriously,  "  I  introduced  Wi- 
nona  to  you.  She  has  been  a  great  deception  to  me, 
too.  But  why  did  you  keep  on  seeing  her  without 
saying  anything  to  me?  Nothing  wrong  in  it,  but 
why  hide  it?  That's  what  wounded  me." 

"Of  course,"  he  said  miserably,  "  that  was  wrong. 
I  don't  know  how  it  came  — " 

"  Sympathy?  "  she  suggested,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  was  sorry  for  her." 

"  She  wished  you  to  marry  her,  didn't  she?  " 

"  No,  it  was  not  that !  It  —  was  quite  different !  " 
he  said,  and  his  face  crimsoned,  while  the  knives  were 
transferred  hastily  back  to  the  right.  He  drew  a  long 
painful  breath.  "  It's  something  very  disagree- 


4io  THE  SALAMANDER 

able  —  something  I  can't  talk  to  you  about !  All  I 
wish  to  say  is,  for  your  own  good,  Miss  —  Miss  Horn- 
ing is  not  a  proper  friend  for  you." 

"  She  has  been  gone  almost  two  months ! "  she  said 
quietly.  "  Very  well ;  we  won't  say  anything  more. 
You  are  too  generous,  too  warm-hearted,  Mr.  Peavey ! 
Tell  me  about  what  you've  been  doing." 

Her  doubts  had  been  suddenly  confirmed,  but  it  gave 
her  a  sudden  feeling  of  horror  as  she  thought  of  the 
desperation  to  which  Winona  must  have  been  driven 
to  have  ( attempted  such  a  stroke.  Then  she  was 
afraid  of  the  opening  into  sentiment  which  she  saw  be- 
fore her,  and  changed  the  subject  quickly,  but,  unfor- 
tunately, to  her  disadvantage. 

"  I  have  carried  through  a  great  merger  of  our  in- 
terests," he  said,  his  face  lighting  up.  "  The  last 
formalities  will  be  completed  to-night,  in  Boston.  It 
will  be" — he  stopped,  not  daring  to  look  at  her  — 
"  very  profitable.  In  a  year  I  shall  be,  not  a  very  rich 
man,  but  quite  rich  —  yes,  quite  rich,  even  as  things 
go  to-day !  My  intention  then  is  to  retire,  to  travel,  to 
see  the  great  cities  of  the  world.  I  don't  care  for 
money  myself,  except  —  well,  to  give  everything  pos- 
sible in  the  world  to  the  person  I  care  for." 

He  was  speaking 'rapidly  now,  staring  directly  be- 
fore him  at  her  hand,  which  was  playing  with  the 
glass.  She  looked  about  in  terror.  The  near  tables 
were  vacant;  they  were  still  practically  isolated.  In 
another  moment  it  would  be  all  over.  The  arrival  of 
the  second  course  momentarily  saved  her.  She  plied 
him  with  questions,  signaling  the  waiter  on  a  dozen 


THE  SALAMANDER  411 

invented  pretexts  whenever  the  conversation  turned 
to  an  intimate  note.  But  at  the  end  of  the  luncheon, 
as  if  overburdened  with  the  strain  of  a  great  secret, 
resolved  to  end  the  torture,  he  said  abruptly: 

"  Miss  Baxter,  it  was  not  simply  to  explain  I  came 
here ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you  very  seriously,  on  a  matter 
that  is  everything  in  the  world  to  — " 

She  drew  back  suddenly  as  if  frightened,  and  her 
hand,  apparently  by  accident,  coming  in  contact  with 
her  glass,  sent  it  tumbling  over  the  table,  drenching 
the  cloth,  amid  a  clatter  of  cutlery.  The  maitre 
d' hotel  came  running  immediately  to  her  rescue,  napkin 
in  hand. 

"  Oh,  dear !  how  awkward  I  am !  "  she  cried,  in 
great  confusion. 

"It's  nothing  —  nothing!"  Peavey  said  hastily, 
reproaching  himself  for  having  frightened  her  by  the 
abruptness  of  his  methods,  here  in  a  crowded  restau- 
rant. 

But  when  they  had  gone  into  the  anteroom,  he  said 
quickly : 

"  Miss  Baxter,  will  you  come  into  the  salon  here, 
or  up-stairs?  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  —  a  few  mo- 
ments, just  a  second  —  I  must  speak  to  you.  Now  — 
at  once  —  please !  " 

There  was  no  escape;  she  resigned  herself  to  fol- 
lowing him.  But  as  she  entered  the  green-and-gold 
desert  where  intimacy  could  no  longer  be  avoided,  she 
thought  to  herself: 

"Oh,  dear!  If  I  had  only  knocked  it  over  my 
dress  I  could  have  gone  right  home!  " 


412  THE  SALAMANDER 

In  twenty  minutes  it  was  all  over,  and  very  red, 
very  quiet,  he  had  conducted  her  to  his  car  and  sent 
her  off. 

"  I'm  sorry !  "  she  said,  distressed  at  his  pathetic 
figure. 

"  Such  things  can't  be  helped!  "  he  said,  with  a  clos- 
ing of  the  jaws. 

"  But  let's  be  friends,  can't  you  ?  Just  now  —  I'm 
so  young  still  —  later  —  Please  let's  be  friends,  Mr. 
Peavey ! " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  afraid  —  that's  too  hard,  and  —  I  don't  think 
you'll  ever  change !  " 

"  I  have  been  honest !  "  she  said  sadly  —  which  was 
true,  in  a  measure. 

"Very!" 

He  shook  her  hand  with  an  exaggerated  bow,  sig- 
naled the  chauffeur  and  went  back. 

All  at  once  she  had  a  feeling  of  utter  loneliness  and 
abandonment.  He  had  been  something  so  secure  in 
her  life,  so  dependable.  To  give  him  up  was  more 
of  a  wrench  than  she  had  imagined.  It  brought  her 
a  curious  sense  of  peril.  Would  he  wait,  as  she  had 
suggested,  or  would  this  be  the  end,  the  last  glimpse 
she  would  have  of  this  strong,  solitary,  devoted  soul? 

She  jumped  out  hastily  at  Miss  Pirn's,  and  then 
stopped  to  consider. 

"Want  me  this  evening?"  said  Brennon,  watching 
her  attentively. 

"  I  don't  know  —  yes  —  I'll  telephone." 

"  Everything  all  right  ?  "  he  asked  slyly. 


THE  SALAMANDER  413 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  said,  frowning  and  sur- 
prised. 

"  Oh,  nothing !  "  he  said  noisily.  Then  he  leaned 
forward,  his  eyes  fixed  boldly,  covetously  on  her.  "  I 
say,  when  you've  got  an  open  date,  why  not  come  joy- 
riding  with  me  ?  " 

"  Oh !  "  She  drew  back,  stung  to  the  quick  of  her 
pride. 

He  misunderstood  her  action,  perhaps.  Shrugging 
his  shoulders,  he  went  on : 

"  Why  not?  I'm  as  good  a  spender  as  some  of  the 
high-rollers ! " 

"  How  dare  you  ?  "  she  cried,  blushing  hot  under  his 
look.  "What  do  you  think  I  am?  Go  with  you!" 

"  You  needn't  be  so  particular ! "  he  said,  angry  in 
his  turn  at  her  contempt.  "  A  chauffeur's  not  a  serv- 
ant. And  I  guess  I've  kept  your  secrets,  young  lady !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Look  here !  I'm  no  fool !  Don't  you  think  I 
know  your  game?  Don't  you  think  I  got  on  to  the 
brother  racket  that  night?  All  right!  Don't  get  in 
a  huff!  What've  I  done?  Invited  you  out!  What 
are  you  turning  up  your  nose  at  me  for?  Come, 
now!" 

He  had  ended  in  it  conciliatory  tone,  smiling  at  her 
indignant  face  with  undisguised  admiration. 

"  Brennon,  that's  enough !  I  shan't  want  you,  now 
or  ever!  Mr.  Peavey  shall  hear  of  this!  " 

"  Oh,  will  he  ?  "  he  said,  with  an  ugly  look.  "  Then 
he'll  hear  of  a  good  deal  more!  What  are  you  but 
a— " 


414  THE  SALAMANDER 

She  gave  a  cry  of  shame  at  the  word  he  flung  out 
in  anger,  and  rushed  into  the  house,  utterly  crushed 
and  revolted,  wounded  as  she  had  never  been  before  in 
all  her  life.  The  whole  day  had  been  one  of  blank 
defeat.  Now  with  her  body  smarting  as  if  from  a 
blow,  broken  in  spirit,  clinging  to  the  window- frame, 
she  had  a  sudden  ominous  chill.  It  seemed  as  if  in  a 
twinkle  everything  had  changed  for  her  —  that  all 
that  had  been  so  rosy  and  brilliant  before,  was  now  be- 
come grim  and  black ;  that  everything  had  been  broken 
up;  that,  one  by  one,  all  would  fall  away. 

And,  as  if  her  cup  of  bitterness  were  not  full,  in  her 
mail  she  found  the  one  letter  she  had  dreaded  for 
months : 

"  All  over  and  I've  won  out,  Flossie !  Whew !  Three  months 
ago  things  looked  so  squally,  I  couldn't  even  write.  If  I'd  gone 
under,  I'd  just  have  quietly  dropped  out,  and,  Kid,  you'd  nevef 
known  what  had  hit  me !  But,  bless  the  luck,  I'm  It ! 
Clear  the  tracks  for  me !  I'm  coming  East  with  the  bells  on ! 
Listen !  Six  thousand  eight  hundred  fifty-two  dollars  in  the 
bank,  salted  away.  Prospects,  sixteen  karat  fine.  Got  a 
cracker-jack  proposition;  six  cinematograph  shows,  one-fifth 
interest.  In  a  year,  Flossie,  it's  a  gasoline  buggy  for  you! 
I'm  beating  it  to  you,  hot-foot.  One  stop  in  Des  Moines  to  pick 
up  some  easy  money,  and  me  for  the  gay  White  Way !  Watch 
for  me  about  March  fourteenth.  Say,  we're  going  to  be 
rich,  and  don't  you  forget  it!  It's  all  for  you,  bless  your 
pretty  eyes!  Do  I  love  you?  Well,  say!  I'm  sitting  up,  talk- 
ing to  your  little  photo,  foolish  as  a  kid !  I'm  daffy  about 
you.  If  you're  still  strong  for  Josh,  why,  set  the  date.  Go  the 
limit  on  the  clothes  —  the  best  isn't  too  good  for  you!  Don't 
keep  me  waiting,  and  don't  go  for  to  tease  me,  honey,  for  my 
heart's  been  true  to  you ! 

"  JOSH. 

"  P.  S.    If  you've  got  any  foolish  thinks  in  your  sassy  head 


THE  SALAMANDER  415 

that  you  care  for  any  cane-bearing  dude,  dismiss  them!  You 
don't !  Sweep  the  porch  and  cut  the  hammock-strings.  Don't 
fool  yourself  one  minute  —  we're  the  team!" 

She  gave  a  cry  of  horror.  The  worst  had  come! 
The  past  was  rising  up  to  claim  her,  stretching  out  its 
cruel  tentacles  to  drag  her  back,  as  it  had  done  to 
Winona.  How  could  she  escape  him?  What  could 
she  say  to  him,  after  all  these  months  of  weak  post- 
ponement? If  only  she  could  stop  him  by  a  letter  or 
a  telegram !  But  there  was  no  address.  All  she  knew 
was  that  somewhere,  out  on  the  cold  brown  sky-line, 
he  was  hurrying  toward  her,  resolute,  confident,  a  ter- 
ribly earnest  lover.  All  that  night,  in  the  midst  of 
hideous  dreams,  where  Brennon  pursued  her  with  his 
vindictive  grin,  she  had  the  feeling  of  something  ad- 
vancing over  the  horizon,  black,  swelling  like  a  tor- 
nado, roaring  toward  her,  obscuring  everything  with 
its  expanding  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IN  a  twinkling,  from  the  heights  of  triumphant 
pleasure,  Dodo  found  herself  plunged  into  pro- 
foundest  dejection.  It  seemed  as  if  everything  must 
turn  against  her,  that  there  could  be  no  end  to  the  de- 
feats that  were  to  pile  up.  At  the  end  of  the  week 
a  curt  farewell  letter  came  from  Mr.  Peavey,  in  which 
she  believed  she  divined  the  hand  of  Brennon.  For 
the  first  time,  too,  she  felt  the  clammy  touch  of  pov- 
erty. In  the  last  months,  unperceived,  the  props  had 
dropped  away,  one  by  one.  She  had  been  foolish,  ex- 
travagant. She  had  wanted  to  be  as  well  dressed  in 
the  eyes  of  Massingale  as  the  women  of  his  world. 
She  had  sold,  through  Zip,  the  furs  Stacey  had  given 
her,  for  the  exigencies  of  the  wardrobe.  Trip  by 
trip,  she  had  gone  into  the  shadow  of  the  pawn-broker, 
sacrificing  the  silver  toilet  set,  Sassoon's  bracelet,  the 
vanity-box,  earrings,  brooches,  every  convertible  thing, 
until  only  two  remained  —  Judge  Massingale's  brace- 
let, and  the  ring  that  Lindaberry  had  placed  on  her  fin- 
ger as  a  troth. 

When  Peavey's  automobile  had  been  withdrawn,  she 
had  tried  Gilday,  only  to  find  him  out  of  towrn.  When 
she  had  sought  to  bring  Stacey  back  into  the  fold  of 
the  faithful,  she  found  that  his  allegiance  had  been 
transferred.  He  came  once  to  take  her  to  luncheon, 
but  it  was  out  of  a  sentiment  for  the  past,  and  a  need 

416 


THE  SALAMANDER  417 

of  unbosoming  himself.  She  listened  with  a  little 
lonely  feeling  to  his  rhapsodies  about  another  girl, 
and  when  it  was  over  she  made  no  attempt  to  recall 
him.  The  time  was  too  short  to  seek  out  other  al- 
liances: she  resigned  herself  to  going  on  foot.  It 
gave  her  a  curious  sensation,  as  if  she  were  suddenly 
bankrupt  —  as  if  she  were  slipping  back. 

Nebbins  had  written  that  he  would  come  on  the 
fourteenth,  but  she  had  a  vague  dread  that  he  might 
turn  up  any  day.  She  never  let  herself  into  Miss 
Pirn's  hall  now  that  she  did  not  glance  apprehensively 
at  the  musty  shadows  of  the  parlor,  fearing  to  see  the 
brisk  red-headed  apparition  of  Josh  Nebbins. 

Doctor  Lampson  returned  the  end  of  February  and 
she  went  to  his  office  for  news  of  Garry.  But  at  the 
sight  of  her,  pale  and  restless,  he  had  exclaimed : 

"  Great  heavens !  What  have  you  been  doing  ? 
You  look  like  the  ghost  of  yourself!  " 

"  I've  been  worrying,"  she  said  quickly. 

"  Don't !  Does  no  good !  Besides,  Garry's  all 
right :  he's  coming  out  of  it  with  flying  colors !  Hello ! 
I  almost  forgot.  Here's  a  letter  for  you,"  he  added, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

Dore  took  the  letter,  holding  it  without  opening  it. 

"  How  long  will  he  stay  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  I  rather  think  he'll  turn  up  here  before  the  tenth," 
said  Lampson,  still  enjoying  his  joke. 

"  He  ought  to  stay  longer,  doctor ! "  she  said,  with 
a  sinking  feeling. 

"  Of  course,  but  he  won't!  I  can't  imagine  what  it 
is ;  he  seems  to  be  fond  of  that  date." 


418  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  It's  my  birthday ! "  she  said,  gazing  at  the  rug, 
longing  to  take  him  into  her  confidence. 

"  Then  you'd  better  get  the  roses  back  in  your 
cheeks !  "  said  the  doctor  briskly.  "  What  do  you 
think  of  these  snapshots?  Garry's  more  beautiful 
than  I  am,  but  I  landed  the  first  moose.  Take  'em 
along!" 

He  put  in  her  hand  a  dozen  photographs,  accom- 
panying her  to  the  door  with  the  cordial  respect  he 
had  shown  her  ever  since  that  afternoon  when  she 
had  indignantly  disclaimed  the  engagement.  There 
he  took  her  hand  in  a  fatherly  way : 

"  Miss  Baxter,  you've  one  life  to  your  credit,  bless 
you!  I  didn't  think  it  possible!  You've  got  a  better 
medicine  than  I  have !  " 

When  she  went  home,  she  sat  a  long  while,  staring 
at  the  curious  figures  in  snow-shoes  and  sweaters ;  but 
she  did  not  open  the  letter.  She  knew  that  he  would 
return  for  the  tenth,  and  yet  the  news  upset  her  ter- 
ribly. If  she  shrank  from  the  necessity  of  telling 
Nebbins  the  truth,  this  was  nothing  to  the  dread  she 
had  of  Lindaberry's  being  present.  She  had  hoped, 
almost  against  hope,  that  he  would  stay  away  for 
months;  that,  as  he  regained  his  self-control,  the  feel- 
ing he  had  for  her  would  quiet  down  into  a  sense  of 
profound  gratitude  only,  which  would  leave  him  not 
too  long  miserable  at  her  flight. 

She  took  up  the  envelope  again,  hesitated,  ran  her 
fingers  along  the  edge,  and  glanced  at  the  first  page. 
Almost  at  once  she  rose,  with  a  catching  of  the  throat, 
thrust  the  letter  back  into  the  envelope  and  locked 


THE  SALAMANDER  419 

it  in  her  trunk.  Then  she  went  hurriedly,  blindly, 
to  seek  Massingale  in  court,  a  thing1  she  seldom  did. 
All  that  evening  she  was  very  quiet,  very  clinging  with 
him,  studying  him  with  wide  serious  eyes. 

One  day  at  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  March,  the 
boarding-house  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  violent  ex- 
citement :  Winona  Horning  had  returned,  paid  Miss 
Pirn,  tipped  Josephus  the  enormous  sum  of  five  dollars, 
left  an  address  near  the  park  for  her  trunk,  and  de- 
parted, after  an  abrupt  answer  to  Miss  Pirn's  exclama- 
tory questions,  saying  that  she  had  received  a  small 
legacy.  The  truth  was  discovered  an  hour  later  by 
Josephus,  who  personally  delivered  the  trunk  at  an  im- 
pressive apartment  in  the  West  Eighties.  Winona 
was  there  under  the  name  of  Mrs.  Sampson,  and  the 
automobile  at  the  door  belonged  to  Mr.  Gilday.  The 
next  morning  a  letter  came  by  messenger  which  left 
no  further  doubt  in  Dodo's  mind : 

"Dear  old  Dodo: 

"  You'll  know  the  truth  by  this  time.  Don't  waste  any  sympathy 
over  me!  I  don't  care  —  the  other  was  worse!  I  couldn't  go 
back  and  starve !  Don't  blame  Joe,  either ;  it's  all  my  doing !  I 
suppose  the  girls  will  say  terrible  things  about  me.  The  Duchess 
told  me  Ida's  married:  I'm  glad  of  it.  Dodo,  I  wish  I  could 
see  you  some  day,  just  to  talk  to,  but  I  suppose  that's  impossible. 
Remember  what  I  say  —  only  I  hope  it  won't  ever  happen !  —  if 
things  ever  go  bad  with  you,  and  you're  dead  up  against  it, 
come  to  me !  What  you've  been  to  me  I  never  can  forget ! 
Perhaps  now  you  can  even  forgive  me  about  Mr.  Peavey.  I 
was  desperate !  Don't  refuse  the  hundred  dollars  I  send  you  in 
this.  It'll  hurt  me  terribly  —  and  I  owe  you  every  cent  of  it, 
on  my  word  of  honor!  Good-by,  Dodo.  You've  got  more 
chances  than  I  had ;  only  don't  make  mistakes ! 

"  WINONA  (Mrs.  Edgar  Sampson.)" 


420  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  P.  S.  Now,  whatever  you  do,  don't  get  teary  about  me.  It 
isn't  necessary.  I  don't  care  in  the  least  —  now !  That's  hon- 
est!" 

Inclosed  was  a  bank-note  of  a  hundred  dollars. 
The  sight  of  this  money  coining  from  such  a  source 
brought  to  Dodo  a  sudden  horror  akin  to  the  smarting 
shame  she  had  experienced  at  Brennon's  insulting  ad- 
vances. She  went  out  hastily  to  lunch,  alone,  to  that 
mediocre  noisy  restaurant  on  Lexington  Avenue  where 
she  had  gone  so  miserably  on  the  night  of  her  first 
meeting  with  Massingale,  Sassoon  and  Lindaberry. 
There,  in  the  quiet  of  a  corner,  she  took  out  the  let- 
ter and  reread  it.  Her  first  thought  was  to  rush  to 
Winona  and  take  her  in  her  arms.  No;  certainly  she 
had  nothing  in  her  heart  now  but  charity. 

How  well  she  understood  the  horror  of  returning 
into  the  old !  Why  should  not  a  woman  have  the  right 
to  progress,  to  free  herself  from  hateful  surroundings? 
Why  should  it  be  so  difficult  for  a  woman,  when  it  was 
so  easy  for  a  man?  Why  should  she  only  be  forced 
to  the  wall?  In  the  bare  room,  lighted  by  feeble  cur- 
tained windows,  she  saw  this  other  life  from  which  she 
too  had  emerged,  to  which  she  was  resolved  never  to 
return,  but  which  frightened  her  now  as  a  possibility. 
How  tired  and  pinched  these  men  and  women  were 
who  surrounded  her!  And  the  women,  how  bare  of 
coquetry  and  charm !  Even  the  young  men  who  clus- 
tered in  a  corner,  talking  languidly,  had  a  tired  air  of 
being  already  middle-aged! 

Her  next  impulse  was  to  warn  Winona  of  her  inse- 
curity: for  she  had  read  Gilday  without  illusions,  and 


THE  SALAMANDER  421 

if  five  months  ago  she  had  perceived  what  he  would  be 
to-day,  she  saw  now  the  man  of  to-morrow,  undis- 
turbed by  sentiment  or  weakness,  avid  of  experience 
and  sensation,  an  egoist  soon  evolved,  who  would 
never  deviate  from  his  own  desires  from  any  feeling 
of  remorse  or  pity.  She  felt  that  his  attachment  could 
not  last.  She  must  warn  Winona,  open  her  eyes,  pre- 
pare her  for  the  worst!  She  went  from  the  lunch- 
room with  this  one  thought  in  mind.  Only,  as  the 
interview  would  be  difficult,  and  she  did  not  quite  yet 
know  what  to  counsel,  she  began  to  wander  aimlessly 
through  the  streets,  gusty  with  the  rage  of  March. 

The  figure  of  Winona  haunted  her,  rising  like  an  ac- 
cusing specter  against  her  conscience.  If  only  she  had 
understood  in  time!  She  saw  her  always  weak  and 
irresolute,  obstinately  shrugging  her  shoulders,  her 
brow  clouded  over  —  rebellious  and  foredoomed. 
Again  she  revolted  at  the  different  destinies  of  the 
sexes,  with  a  hot  indignant  anger.  Why  should  the 
woman  be  cut  off  from  all  friendships,  and  not  the 
man?  Would  it  make  any  difference  to  Gilday's 
friends,  or  change  his  position  in  the  slightest?  That 
was  the  injustice  of  it  all.  And  who  was  unjust? 
Her  own  sex! 

"No!  She  needs  a  friend  more  than  ever!"  she 
said  resolutely.  - "  I'll  go  to  her  now  —  this  instant !  " 

All  at  once,  by  one  of  the  perversities  of  the  city,  as, 
come  to  the  thoroughfare  of  Fifth  Avenue,  she  was 
halted  and  crowded  against  the  curb,  a  great  automo- 
bile came  swinging  about  the  corner,  with  Gilday  at 
the  wheel,  Adele  Vickers  and  two  men  behind,  and  in 


422  THE  SALAMANDER 

front,  laughing  and  elegant,  Winona  Horning.  They 
flashed  by  without  even  seeing  her,  standing  on  the 
sidewalk,  elbowed  by  the  common  crowd.  She  had 
but  a  glimpse  of  the  girl  who  had  shared  her  wall  in 
Miss  Pirn's  boarding-house;  but  the  glimpse  she  had 
caught  of  the  butterfly  that  had  emerged  from  the 
grub  tore  down  her  last  illusions.  She  it  was  who  was 
left  standing,  depressed,  struggling  against  the  buffet- 
ing busy  crowd,  feeling  all ;  at  once  deserted  and 
shoddy. 

Until  now  she  had  never  experienced  the  slightest 
temptation  in  regard  to  Sassoon.  She  had  never  de- 
ceived herself  on  that  point,  for  she  had  a  horror  of 
ugliness,  and  it  was  not  money,  but  romance,  which 
she  wished  to  force  from  life  in  this  ardent  fleeting 
period  of  her  youth.  Sassoon  awoke,  not  her  cu- 
pidity, but  her  curiosity.  It  was  an  unexplored  world, 
and  she  was  anxious  to  perceive  its  proportions. 
What  would  he  do  under  strong  provocation,  and 
what,  at  least,  would  it  mean  to  her  if  she  were  dif- 
ferently inclined  ?  Besides,  his  docile  attitude  had  dis- 
armed her  prudence :  she  believed  in  her  control  over 
him. 

But  to-day,  one  in  the  multitude  that  moved,  heavy 
of  foot  and  weary  of  heart,  through  the  great  shop- 
lit  thoroughfares,  she  felt  in  a  peculiarly  vulnerable 
moment.  She  had  been  walking  for  hours  in  the  ef- 
fort to  tire  her  brain,  afraid  to  seek  out  Massingale 
for  fear  that  another  deception  was  awaiting  her,  be- 
ginning more  and  more  to  doubt  that  anything  but 
empty  dreams  would  ever  come.  This  physical  weari- 


THE  SALAMANDER  423 

ness  into  which  she  had  forced  herself  had  brought  a 
profound  moral  lassitude.  She  felt  perilously  near 
the  point  of  surrender.  At  times  she  had  a  desire  to 
take  train  and  escape  to  somewhere  unknown,  to  recon- 
struct everything  from  the  bottom  up.  Ida's  mar- 
riage, the  departure  of  Winona,  affected  her  in  differ- 
ent ways.  What  better  chance  had  she  to  struggle 
against  the  crushing  weight  of  an  implacable  city? 
After  all,  was  not  Ida  right?  Did  she  really  belong? 
How  long  could  she  endure  in  this  rarefied  air?  At 
bottom,  what  did  all  these  men  really  think  of  her  — 
even  Massingale?  Did  one  of  them  consider  her  in 
equality  ? 

Never  had  she  felt  the  bruising  brutality  of  New 
York  so  much  as  she  did  this  evening,  wandering 
aimlessly  from  shop  to  shop.  What  was  the  use  of 
struggling  against  these  enormous  forces,  that  could 
reckon  all  emotions,  joy  or  sorrow,  love  or  despair, 
only  in  tens  of  thousands  ?  What  difference,  after  all, 
did  it  really  make  what  became  of  her  in  this  huge 
maelstrom  of  New  York?  Who  would  notice,  and 
who  would  remember  for  more  than  a  few  hours,  what 
came  to  one  girl  in  the  hundreds  of  thousands? 

In  her  pocket  was  the  money  Winona  had  sent, 
from  which  her  fingers  had  retreated  in  horror.  Yet 
now  no  such  sensation  came  to  her.  She  was  very 
tired,  weary  of  the  struggle,  of  being  on  foot,  of  de- 
feat, of  the  contamination  of  poverty,  of  resisting 
temptation  which  could  be  so  easily  squared  with  her 
conscience.  There  was  one  particular  shop-window 
past  which  she  had  gone  a  dozen  times  —  a  window 


424  THE  SALAMANDER 

in  which  was  a  dress  she  coveted,  all  gold  and  black, 
the  color  men  preferred  on  her,  a  dress  she  could  have 
so  easily  for  the  mere  acceptance  of  the  offer  about 
which  her  ringers  clung.  And,  after  all,  it  was  but 
money  returned,  not  a  gift. 

She  was  hovering  before  the  fatal  window  for  the 
tenth  time,  cold  with  the  approach  of  darkness  and  the 
lack  of  the  furs  which  had  had  to  be  surrendered, 
when  suddenly  Sassoon  appeared  at  her  side  from 
some  current  of  the  crowd.  She  felt  him  at  her 
shoulder,  silently  studying  her,  striving  to  seize  her 
secret  thought,  and  she  started  as  if  he  were  an  appari- 
tion of  the  devil  himself. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  "  she  asked  hastily. 

"  Four  minutes  —  five,"  he  said,  shaking  hands 
elaborately.  "  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Everything  in  the  window !  "  she  replied  angrily. 

"  May  I  send  them  to  you  ?  " 

This  made  her  angrier  still.  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders  and  glanced  at  her  watch. 

"  Take  me  to  tea  somewhere !  " 

"  A  little  run  in  the  country?  " 

"I  don't  care!" 

He  put  her  into  his  automobile  with  an  eagerness 
she  did  not  notice,  so  delighted  was  she  by  the  sense  of 
escape  from  mediocrity  which  the  elegance  and  ease 
of  the  car  brought  her.  He  considered  a  moment, 
and  then,  with  a  word  to  his  chauffeur,  followed  her. 

"  Where  are  we  going?  " 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  something  different  to  run 
down  a  way  toward  Coney  Island." 


THE  SALAMANDER  425 

"  I  don't  care." 

"Blue?" 

She  nodded,  her  head  turned  to  the  flying  shops,  the 
cross  streets,  and  the  maze  of  traffic  at  her  side.  He 
put  out  his  hand  to  take  hers,  but  she  stopped  him  with 
a  warning  finger. 

"  None  of  that,  Mr.  Sassoon !  " 

"  I  had  no  thought  — " 

''  Yes,  I  know;  but  you  know  the  conditions!  " 

"Why  are  you  blue?"  he  asked,  checking  himself. 
"Getting  near  the  tenth?" 

"That's  it!" 

"  And  you  haven't  made  up  your  mind  yet  ? "  he 
said  slowly. 

"  How  can  I  ?  "  she  said,  with  an  irritable  move- 
ment of  her  foot. 

"  Don't  forget  that  I  have  something  to  say  to  you 
before  you  decide,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  It  will  do  you  no  good !  " 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"Quite!" 

"  Sure  there  is  nothing  I  could  offer  you  that  would 
mean  anything?  " 

"Quite!" 

But,  though  she  repeated  the  word  with  extra  em- 
phasis, she  felt  all  at  once  the  beginning  of  a  danger- 
ous curiosity.  After  all,  was  there  nothing  he  could 
offer  her,  who  had  gone  so  long,  tired  of  foot  and 
discouraged  of  heart,  that  might  not  cause  her  to 
pause  and  at  least  experience  a  regret  —  for  an  enor- 
mous sum,  something  fantastic,  which  no  man  would 


426  THE  SALAMANDER 

offer?  Yet  the  idea  entered  into  her  imagination  and 
stimulated  it.  How  many  women  would  hesitate  be- 
fore a  sum  so  great  that  it  made  no  difference  what 
people  said?  From  which  she  began  to  wonder  what 
might  be  her  price  to  this  experienced  connoisseur, 
who  had  estimated  and  bought  so  many  of  her  sex; 
Yes,  what  was  his  estimate  of  her  resistance?  This 
awoke  a  zest  which  soon  dominated  the  lassitude  of  the 
afternoon.  She  must  learn  this  price:  it  would  be 
more  than  exciting. 

All  at  once  they  seemed  lifted  above  the  city,  soar- 
ing upward  past  the  last  sinking  roofs,  cleaving  into 
clear  air.  They  were  on  the  great  Williamsburg 
Bridge,  the  river  far  below,  strewn  with  dusky  mov- 
ing shapes  setting  out  faint  lamps  against  the  darken- 
ing day.  Across  the  river  gusts  of  steam  or  belching 
smoke  thickened  the.  gray  horizon.  Factories,  come 
down  like  animals  to  drink  at  the  riverside,  stood 
in  naked  profile  against  the  sky,  pointing  their  rigid 
towers  toward  the  stars,  sending  occasional  flaming 
blasts  across  reddening  lines  of  window-panes.  Be- 
low, like  the  magic  of  invisible  sprites,  the  jeweled 
strands  of  Brooklyn  Bridge  were  flinging  a  brilliant 
span  across  the  gulf  of  the  night.  About  them,  de- 
liriously below,  were  the  thousand  waking  eyes  of  mys- 
terious hours,  starting  from  the  regimented  lamp-posts 
that  cut  the  city  into  squares  of  black.  All  about 
them  was  that  day  of  the  city  which  is  the  creation  of 
man,  which  he  has  created  in  the  need  of  forgetful- 
ness,  of  doubling  the  span  of  his  few  allotted  years  in 
a  sort  of  Promethean  revolt.  The  day  often  op- 


THE  SALAMANDER  427 

pressed  her  —  the  night  never.  She  sat  up,  smiling 
and  alert,  and  as  if  for  the  first  time  taking  notice  of 
where  she  was  and  where  she  was  going,  asked : 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"  Half  past  five  only." 

But  she  began  to  feel  a  menace  in  this  other  bank 
which  they  were  nearing,  in  these  long  stretches  of 
human  wilderness  leading  to  the  sound.  Sassoon  was 
entirely  too  docile,  she  did  not  know  why,  but  she 
scented  danger  in  the  air. 

"  We  will  go  back,"  she  said  suddenly.  "  Brooklyn 
is  too  dreary;  besides,  it's  late  for  tea." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  stirring  in  his  seat ;  "  I'm 
afraid  you  don't  trust  me?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  —  not  too  far !  " 

"  Supposing  I  decided  to  go  on  ?  "  he  said  quickly. 

"  I  should  open  the  window  and  scream,"  she  said, 
handing  him  the  tube. 

He  complied  reluctantly,  seeking  an  excuse. 

"  It'll  only  take  us  twenty  minutes.  I  wanted  you 
to  get  the  effect  of  New  York  coming  back ;  in  another 
half-hour  it'll  be  magnificent!  " 

"  I'll  enjoy  it  very  much  now,"  she  answered,  laugh- 
ing. 

''  You  quite  misjudge  me,"  he  said,  without  further 
trace  of  irritation.  "  However,  as  you  wish.  I  saw 
you  were  blue,  and  I  had  planned  something  to  dis- 
tract you.  But  it's  no  use." 

"  What  had  you  planned  ?  "  she  said  maliciously. 
*  To  take  you  to  a  very  nice  party." 

"What?" 


428  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  A  supper  with  some  interesting  people  —  Emma 
Fornez,  Sada  Quichy  — " 

"  Where  ?  "  she  said  suspiciously. 

"  At  the  Cafe  Loo." 

"Where's  that?" 

"  In  Harlem." 

She  reflected.  She  had  expected  him  to  give  the 
name  of  some  inn  in  the  country  where  she  would  not 
venture;  but  Harlem  reassured  her.  Perhaps  the 
party  existed,  and,  if  so,  she  was  crazy  to  meet  Emma 
Fornez,  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera.  Besides,  she  felt 
in  a  reckless  mood,  within  certain  safe  limitations. 

"  If  you  asked  me  very  nicely,"  she  said  softly, 
"  you  might  be  surprised  — " 

An  hour  later  they  came  to  a  stop  before  a  restau- 
rant flanked  with  plants  and  shining  with  the  dazzle. 
of  reflecting  mirrors.  It  was  of  new  creation,  on  the 
order  of  the  German  Gardens,  situated  on  one  of  the 
great  thoroughfares,  a  publicity  which  quite  reassured 
her.  They  went  in  by  a  private  entrance,  and  up  in  an 
elevator  to  a  suite  on  the  third  floor. 

"  We're  ahead  of  time,"  said  Sassoon.  "  Dressing- 
room  to  the  left.  Leave  your  things  there." 

The  room  into  which  they  had  entered  from  an 
ante-chamber  was  a  salon  in  false  Empire  furniture 
against  plum-yellow  carpets  and  hangings.  Through 
a  curtained  door  to  the  right  was  a  glimpse  of  a  din- 
ing-room in  the  corner  of  the  house.  She  took  in  the 
surroundings  with  a  quick  glance  as  she  went  into  the 
boudoir.  What  she  had  suspected  was  true.  The 
party  was  an  invention.  She  was  alone  with  Sassoon. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

SHE  was  not  the  least  afraid,  nor,  in  fact,  was  she 
^^  unprepared  for  the  discovery.  When  Sassoon 
had  tempted  her  with  the  prospects  of  a  party,  she  was 
not  altogether  his  dupe.  Yet,  under  safe  conditions, 
she  was  disposed,  to-night,  to  grant  him  the  intimacy 
of  a  tete-a-tete.  She  knew  that  he  had  never  yet  said 
to  her  what  he  wanted,  and  she  had  a  great  curiosity 
to  know  what  he  would  hold  before  her  eyes.  The  re- 
spectability of  the  crowd  seen  through  the  brilliant 
windows,  the  publicity  of  the  position,  all  reassured 
her  that  there  could  be  no  trap  beyond  the  powers  of 
her  ingenuity.  She  examined  the  dressing-room  has- 
tily. Besides  the  door  that  gave  on  to  the  salon,  there 
were  two  others  —  one,  which  was  locked,  to  a  farther 
suite,  and  a  second,  opening  into  the  ante-chamber. 

She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  down  on  the 
flattened  crowd  flowing  like  inky  pools  under  the  phos- 
phorescent arc-lights;  the  scurrying  roofs  of  automo- 
biles, darting  across  the  lighted  trolleys,  calculating 
the  effect  of  a  cry.  Then  she  opened  the  door  into 
the  ante-chamber,  hesitating.  It  would  be  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world  to  leave  now,  without  noise,  while 
Sassoon  was  busy  with  the  ordering.  But  curiosity 
was  strong,  and  the  need  of  a  sensation  —  of  a  tri- 
umph over  danger,  which  would  give  back  that  old 
audacity  that  had  almost  departed  in  these  last  bit- 

429 


430  THE  SALAMANDER 

ter  days.  She  bit  her  lip  thoughtfully,  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, and  then,  tiptoeing  quietly  to  the  outer  door,  re- 
moved the  key,  assuring  herself  that  there  were  no 
bolts  to  fasten  it.  It  might  be  the  last  escapade,  per- 
haps the  last  time  that  she  would  baffle  him.  The  tenth 
was  only  three  days  away  and  in  the  need  of  setting 
the  stage  for  her  final  climax  she  felt  the  need,  sud- 
denly, of  carrying  this  motive  up  to  the  brink  —  yes, 
even  of  calmly  looking  over. 

She  left  her  hat  with  her  coat  in  the  dressing-room, 
and  came  out  confidently,  her  hands  on  her  hips,  which 
swayed  slightly  in  the  languorous  movement  of  the 
Spanish  indolence,  mockery  in  her  eyes. 

"  No  one  here  yet?  "  she  asked  unconcernedly. 

"  Not  seven,"  he  replied,  glancing  at  his  watch. 

"  Artists  are  always  late !  " 

He  assented,  watching  her. 

"This  the  dining-room?"  she  said,  moving  to  the 
right. 

"Wait!" 

"Why?" 

"  I  want  to  give  you  a  surprise." 

"  I  know  it  already !  " 

"What?" 

"  There's  no  party  at  all ;  we're  dining  together," 
she  said,  looking  at  him  directly.  "  Don't  lie.  Be- 
sides, I  knew  it  all  the  time !  " 

"  What  ?  "  he  said  amazed. 

"Naturally!  Do  you  think  I  would  be  here  if  I 
didn't  want  to  be?  Well,  to-night,  then,  is  the  big 
temptation  ?  I  hope  you'll  be  very  interesting !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  431 

| 

"  So  you  knew !  "  he  said,  pursing  his  lips. 

"  You're  disappointed  because  I'm  not  afraid !  "  she 
told  him,  laughing.  "  Well,  I'm  not !  Besides,  I  have 
taken  my  precautions !  " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked  uneasily. 

"  There's  a  door  from  the  dressing-room  into  the 
vestibule  —  you  gave  me  plenty  of  time,"  she  said 
quietly.  "  There  happened  to  be  a  party  I  knew  be- 
low when  we  came  in,  or  we  would  not  be  here.  They 
are  to  take  me  home  —  later." 

"  You  went  down  — "  he  said  slowly,  at  a  loss 
whether  to  believe  her  or  not.  She  nodded,  and  still 
incredulous,  he  went  to  the  dressing-room,  assuring 
himself  that  she  had  at  least  spoken  the  truth  about  the 
door. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  folding  her  arms  and  laughing 
at  him,  but  feeling  every  nerve  and  fiber  alert  with  the 
sense  of  combat. 

"  Miss  Baxter,"  he  answered,  standing  by  her  and 
fastening  his  heavy  oriental  gaze  on  hers,  "  I  have 
never,  in  all  my  life,  wanted  a  woman  as  I  want  you!  " 

"  I  hope  so !  " 

"Don't  you  know  that?" 

"  It's  the  devil  in  me,  then." 

'The  devil  and  the  child,"  he  said  quietly. 

She  didn't  like  his  look,  so  she  motioned  him  away, 
saying: 

"  Something  to  eat  first,  please,  and  business  later." 

"  With  any  other  woman  I  would  understand  that," 
he  said,  without  shifting  his  gaze. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  simpler  than  you  think  ?  " 


432  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Let's  go  in  to  dinner !  "  he  said  abruptly. 

He  went  to  the  curtain  and  drew  it  aside  deferen- 
tially. She  went  past  him  quickly,  watching  him 
from  under  her  eyelashes,  choosing  that  seat  at  the 
table  which  would  give  her  quick  retreat  in  case  of 
need.  The  waiter,  bald  and  correctly  vacant  of  ex- 
pression, arrived  after  a  discreet  knock,  and  with  the 
swinging  of  the  door  came  a  sudden  burst  of  laughter 
from  an  arriving  party.  She  waved  away  the  prof- 
fered cocktail. 

"Nothing?  "he  asked. 

"  At  such  an  important  interview  ?  Of  course 
not!" 

He  raised  his  glass  to  her  honor,  and  she  nodded. 

"  You  don't  look  so  terrible,  after  all,"  she  said, 
examining  him  with  a  critical  smile;  and  to  herself 
she  said  disdainfully,  as  she  had  said  another  time: 
"If  this  is  a  dangerous  man,  what  is  it  makes  him 
dangerous  ?  " 

But  this  query  was  not  simply  of  amusement.  The 
seriousness  of  life  had  so  obtruded  itself  upon  her,  in 
the  last  preparatory  weeks,  that  she  wanted  to  know 
everything,  to  have  before  her  in  detail  that  existence 
which  could  depend  on  his  soft  hands  and  wearied 
eyes. 

"  So  I  puzzle  you  very  much?  " 

"  You  know  you  do !  "  he  said,  with  a  slow  smile, 
still  resolved  to  continue  the  role  of  bon  enfant. 

"  Most  women  are  simpler,  then?  " 

"  Much ! " 

"  And  how  do  you  do  ?  "  she  said,  her  elbows  on 


THE  SALAMANDER  433 

the  table,  leaning  forward  eagerly.  "  Just  say  flatly, 
'  How  much?'" 

He  ran  a  lean  finger  through  the  mounting  mus- 
tache, smiling. 

"Usually,  yes!" 

"  And  they  all  have  their  price  ?  " 

"  Not  all,  no ;  but  all  that  I  want,"  he  answered 
frankly. 

"  That  must  be  quite  exciting  —  the  estimating,  I 
mean,"  she  said,  to  draw  him  out.  "  Imagine  looking 
at  a  woman  and  saying :  '  This  one  will  cost  me  a 
thousand,  this  one  ten  thousand,  and  this  one  will  be 
very,  very  expensive.'  It  must  be  quite  amusing  to 
see  if  you  guess  right!  " 

"Very  amusing — >yes." 

"  Sassoon,  what's  my  price  ?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  I  didn't  say  you  had  one." 

"  You  said  all  women  you  wanted." 

"  Miss  Baxter,"  he  said  slowly,  "  you  began  this 
conversation." 

"  Yes  —  and  let's  drop  all  pretenses ;  let's  talk  to 
each  other,  since  we  are  here.  Let  me  know  you  as 
you  really  are.  I  wish  it !  " 

"  Very  well !  "  he  said,  pleased.  He  rested  his  el- 
bows likewise  on  the  table,  scanning  his  left  hand, 
turning  the  great  emerald  ring  that  adorned  it.  "  I 
believe  every  woman  has  her  price,  under  certain  con- 
ditions: first,  that  you  know  the  need  of  money,  and, 
most  important,  that  you  are  old  enough  to  understand 
what  things  can  be  bought !  " 

"  You  think  I  am  too  young?  " 


434  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I  am  not  sure !  You  are  very  romantic/'  he  said, 
and  as  she  laughed  at  this  interpretation,  he  continued : 
"  If  you  were  thirty  instead  of  twenty-two,  you  could 
not  make  a  mistake !  " 

"  That's  a  curious  way  to  put  it !  " 

"  I  am  not  speaking  of  ten  thousand  or  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars,"  he  said  quietly.  "  You  are  the  excep- 
tion. You  are  the  sort  of  woman  that  would  hold  a 
man  for  years.  Miss  Baxter,  do  you  remember  what 
the  Comte  de  Joncy  told  you  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes;  he  liked  my  eyes,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  He  estimated  them  at  a  million  each.     He  knew ! " 

"  What  nonsense  you  are  talking !  " 

"  I  am  talking  of  a  career,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Con- 
sider it.  It's  worth  considering!" 

"  Ah,  now  I  understand !     Well,  go  on !  " 

"  Just  a  little  glass  ? "  he  said,  raising  the  cham- 
pagne. 

"  Sounds  like  Bowery  melodrama,"  she  said  mock- 
ingly. "  The  Wicked  Millionaire.  Please  be  serious ! 
It's  so  nice  to  talk  of  millions!  " 

"If  you  knew  what  I  know,"  he  said,  looking  be- 
yond her  and  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  it  would  be 
easy  to  discuss !  There's  only  one  thing  important  in 
life,  Miss  Baxter.  Money!  " 

"And  love?" 

"  Love !  You  will  love  ten  —  twenty  times ! 
What  do  you  know  of  such  things  ?  "  he  said  rapidly. 
"  You  have  a  vague  illusion  before  your  eyes,  and  in 
reality,  what  is  guiding  you  is  the  same  principle  of 
nature  that  governs  all  life.  A  woman  in  the  state 


THE  SALAMANDER  435 

you  are  in  now  is  really  in  a  state  of  hysteria  —  an  un- 
natural state,  that  causes  you  to  do  any  number  of 
illogical  things,  crazy  things  — " 

"  As,  for  instance,  falling  in  love  ?  " 

"  Falling  in  love  with  impossible  people,"  he  cor- 
rected. "What  do  you  know  of  love,  anyhow?  I 
may  know." 

"You!"  she  said  scornfully. 

"  Yes  —  now.  I've  seen  the  rest,  and  if  I  love,  it's 
the  young,  the  beautiful,  the  past.  I  won't  explain: 
you  must  experience  to  comprehend!  Another  thing 
about  yourself  that  you  don't  understand:  to  love  and 
to  be  loved  are  two  different  things.  A  woman  like 
you  will  always  be  loved.  You  won't  love,  really 
love,  not  for  a  long  while  —  not  until  you  begin  to 
grow  old !  What  stops  you  from  using  me  ?  Family  ? 
You  have  none !  Friends  ?  Bah !  " 

"And  the  man?"  she  said  coldly,  beginning 
fiercely  to  resent  the  brutality  of  his  philosophy, 
though  she  had  determined  to  remain  impersonal  and 
amused. 

'  The  man!  "  He  laughed,  throwing  himself  back 
in  his  chair,  scowling  a  little  at  this  direct  personal  al- 
lusion. *  There  you  have  it !  With  one  question  you 
have  betrayed  your  whole  morality  —  woman's  mo- 
rality! The  man!  If  I  were  a  young  cub  with  a  ro- 
mantic strut,  talking  big,  it  would  be  different ;  it  would 
not  be  a  case  of  selling  yourself  —  it  would  be  an  in- 
fatuation ! " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  our  morality,"  she  said  indignantly, 
thinking  of  Massingale,  and  led  insensibly  into  a  de- 


436  THE  SALAMANDER 

f ensive  attitude.  "  Say  it  is !  It's  at  least  nat- 
ural!" 

"  You  mean,  in  my  case,  the  thing  that  makes  you 
recoil  is  myself?  "  he  said  abruptly.  "  More  than  any 
other  consideration  ?  Say  it !  " 

"  Quite  true !  " 

"  If  I  were  asking  you  to  marry  me,  if  you  had  that 
opportunity,  would  that  feeling  stop  you  ?  " 

She  was  silent,  surprised. 

"  It's  a  money  transaction  in  either  case,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  What  a  terrible  view  of  life  you  have !  "  she  said, 
appalled.  She  had  been  prepared  for  danger  of  an 
overt  character,  not  for  the  insidious  subtle  poisoning 
which  he  was  distilling  in  her  ears.  She  drew  back, 
breathing  quickly,  fiercely  resisting  his  ideas. 
"  Money,  money  —  that's  all  you  see,  because  that's 
all  you  understand !  " 

"  I  only  wish  to  make  you  see !  "  he  said,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  "  that  there  is  no  difference  in  being 
what  I  offer  you  and  in  being — " 

"  Mrs.  Sassoon !  "  she  said  curtly. 

He  did  not  like  the  reference,  manlike,  though  he 
frowned  and  admitted  the  allusion  with  a  wave  of  his 
fingers. 

"  As  you  wish !  "  Then  he  continued,  with  an  un- 
wonted energy  for  his  tired  attitude :  "  No,  I  don't 
say  everything  can  be  controlled  by  money,  but  that 
our  world  is.  There  are  two  sorts  of  human  beings : 
those  who  work,  and  those  who  live  for  pleasure.  It's 
the  last  we're  talking  about.  What  are  you?  You're 
a  nervous,  pretty  little  animal  that  has  learned  to 


THE  SALAMANDER  437 

• . 


love  luxury.  You  may  know  it,  or  you  may  not. 
You  may  have  had  the  taste  of  it  before  you  came 
here,  but  you've  steeped  yourself  in  it  since.  You 
couldn't  help  yourself !  It's  all  about  you ;  it's  the  cor- 
ruption in  every  street;  it's  New  York!  Don't  you 
think  I  know  you?  What  were  you  thinking  as  you 
stood  before  that  window  to-night?  " 

"  Yes,  I  love  luxury !  "  she  said  abruptly,  admitting 
it  to  shut  him  off. 

"If  you  had  never  known  New  York,  you  might  be 
different,"  he  continued  triumphantly.  "  You  might 
marry  and  be  satisfied  with  a  commonplace  routine  ex- 
istence. But,  little  girl,  you're  what  you  are!  You 
covet  everything :  jewels  —  oh,  I  saw  your  eyes  when 
you  refused  that  necklace;  clothes  —  you  know  your 
own  worth  and  you've  dreamed,  you  must  have 
dreamed,  of  what  you'd  be  if  you  could  wear  what 
other  women  wear;  you  want  to  go  where  others  go, 
pay  what  others  pay ;  you  want  to  be  watched,  courted, 
admired.  Do  you  think  you'll  ever  love  any  man  as 
you  love  yourself?" 

"  It  isn't  true !  "  she  said  furiously ;  yet  his  exposi- 
tion had  left  her  weakly  terrified. 

"  It  is  true !  You  know  it !  Stand  up ;  look  in  the 
mirror!  See  yourself  as  you  can  be,  with  jewels  in 
your  hair,  against  your  neck,  in  dresses  that  are  worth 
hundreds,  in  furs  that  are  worth  thousands !  Do  you 
think  you  could  go  in  any  assembly,  theater  or  restau- 
rant, but  every  one  wouldn't  turn  in  amazement?  " 

She  felt  troubled,  struggling  against  a  heavy  lassi- 
tude, regretting  that  she  had  given  him  this  oppor- 


438  THE  SALAMANDER 

tunity;  and  instinctively,  by  a  force  beyond  her  con- 
trol, she  raised  her  eyes  to  the  mirror  at  the  end  of  the 
room,  and  saw  a  little  girl  in  a  simple  dress,  her  hair 
in  a  confusion  of  golden  curls,  and  behind  her  the  tri- 
umphant woman  he  had  conjured  to  her  eyes. 

"  No  coffee !  "  she  said,  nervously  averting  her  eyes 
from  his  eager  gaze.  "  It's  hot,  dreadfully  hot,  in 
here." 

There  came  a  moment's  pause,  a  lull  after  the  first 
skirmish,  during  which  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  waited, 
well  content. 

"  It's  all  a  question  of  opportunity,"  he  began  again, 
while  her  troubled  eyes  went  past  him  to  the  mirror  of 
the  future.  "  You  can  do  now  what  you  can't  do 
later !  Do  you  want  to  end  in  a  boarding-house,  Miss 
Baxter?" 

"  Why  do  you  —  care  for  me?  "  she  asked  him  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  In  the  beginning,  because  you  resisted  me,"  he 
said,  turning  his  cigar  in  his  fingers.  "  Now,  be- 
cause you  hate  me !  " 

"  And  knowing  that  I  hate  you,  you  want  me  ?  " 

"  A  thousand  times  more !  "  he  said,  and  for  the  first 
time  the  greed  and  hunger  rose  in  his  eyes.  But 
quickly  he  controlled  himself. 

"  The  moment  I  stopped  resisting  you,  you  would 
not  care"!  "  she  said  slowly. 

"True;  but  you  would  always  resist!"  he  said 
quickly.  "  Besides,  that  is  what  I  like  —  what  you 
must  always  do !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  439 

He  spoke  now  with  eagerness,  a  restlessness  in  his 
voice,  uneasiness  in  his  eyes.  Despite  the  tenseness  of 
the  situation,  looking  on  him  thus,  a  flash  of  pity  and 
horror  came  to  her  as  she  felt,  in  her  progress  into  the 
knowledge  of  life,  the  hidden  tragedies  that  lurk  in 
the  reverse  of  a  glittering  medal. 

"  Ycu  overestimate  what  I  can  do ! "  she  said  at 
last. 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of?  "  he  asked  her,  ignoring 
the  remark.  "  The  opinion  of  society?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  Go  on  with  your  career ! "  he  said  impatiently. 
"The  world  will  close  its  eyes  to  what  you  do!  If 
you  haven't  the  courage,  there's  always  a  way. 
Marry  and  separate !  " 

She  looked  so  surprised  at  this  that  a  thin  smile 
came  over  his  lips. 

"  There  are  a  dozen  men  I  can  call  on  who  will  do 
you  that  slight  service !  "  he  said  grimly.  "  Listen ! 
Let  it  be  so !  I  will  procure  you  a  husband,  a  very  con- 
venient, manageable  husband,  who  will  appear  and  dis- 
appear. You'll  become  Mrs.  Jones  or  Mrs.  Smith, 
and  after  a  few  months  you  can  divorce.  You  will 
then  be,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  perfectly  qualified  to 
do  whatever  you  please,  without  danger  of  criticism. 
That's  society  for  you !  " 

"  So  that's  the  way  it  is  done!  "  she  thought,  quite 
excited.  For  a  brief  moment  she  let  herself  go  into 
the  role  he  had  opened  for  her,  wondering  if  it  were 
possible  —  if,  under  any  circumstance,  even  if  Massin- 


440  THE  SALAMANDER 

gale  should  utterly  fail  her,  she  could  succeed  as  he  had 
prophesied.  "  Really,"  she  said,  amazed,  "  you  have 
men  who  would  sell  themselves  for  that  ?  " 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders.  "  It  can  be  done  to-night !  " 

"To-night?" 

"  You  don't  believe  me  ?  I'll  telephone  now ;  I'll 
have  your  future  husband  here  in  half  an  hour. 
Would  you  like  to  see  him? " 

"  Not  to-night !  "  she  said,  laughing.  Then,  push- 
ing back,  she  added :  "  Are  you  through  ?  " 

"  Not  quite." 

He  rose,  took  from  his  pocketbook  two  bills  of  a 
thousand  dollars  each,  and  laid  them  beside  her  plate. 

"What's  this  for?"  she  asked,  raising  her  eyes. 

"  For  the  pleasure  you  have  given  me,  Miss  Bax- 
ter, in  permitting  me  to  take  dinner  with  you,"  he  an- 
swered, smiling. 

"  Just  for  that  ?  "  she  said  ironically. 

"  Just  for  that !  "  he  repeated.  He  drew  back  to- 
ward the  window.  "  You  see,  it  was  not  so  dan- 
gerous, after  all.  If  you  will  get  your  things  now, 
we  shall  go !  " 

Her  sense  of  the  dramatic  was  struck. 

"  Ah,  that's  very  clever  of  you ! "  she  said,  quite 
excited.  Two  thousand  dollars  just  for  the  favor  of 
dining  with  her!  How  subtly  he  proclaimed  what 
she  might  expect  in  the  future!  The  bills  were  hor- 
ribly real,  seeming  to  adhere  to  her  fingers.  She  re- 
peated, wildly  stirred :  "  Very  clever !  " 

He  came  closer  to  her,  with  veiled  eagerness. 


THE  SALAMANDER  441 

"Well,  what  is  it  to  be?" 

She  left  the  money  on  the  table,  answering  quietly : 

"  You  know,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  You  will  — " 

"No!  — of  course!" 

He  frowned  impatiently. 

"Think  it  over!" 

"There's  no  need!" 

"  How  much  do  you  want  ?  Come,  tell  me ! "  he 
said  roughly,  with  a  brutality  from  which  the  mask 
had  been  withdrawn. 

She  laughed  triumphantly  at  the  reappearance  of 
the  true  Sassoon. 

"  Ah,  I  would  be  very  expensive !  " 

"I  don't  care!" 

"  You  haven't  enough !  " 

"  What ! "  he  cried  angrily,  trying  to  seize  her 
wrist.  "You  are  fool  enough  to  refuse?  You  can 
have  anything  you  want.  I  will  make  you  any- 
thing!" 

"Sassoon,  it's  the  man!"  she  said  scornfully. 

He  drew  back,  red  with  anger. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean  that  everything  you  have  said  fills  me 
with  horror! "  she  cried,  with  a  need  of  self -expostu- 
lation. "  I  wouldn't  be  you  for  all  the  millions  in  the 
world!  Thank  God,  I  can  be  a  fool!  I  can  love 
like  a  human  being!  I'd  rather  give  up  everything 
in  the  world  to  the  man  I  adore  — " 

With  an  exclamation,  he  sprang  toward  her,  rage 
and  lust  in  his  eyes;  but,  prepared,  she  flung  a  chair 


442  THE  SALAMANDER 

against  his  legs  and  escaped  into  the  drawing-room, 
slamming  the  door  in  his  face,  and  darting  from  the 
vestibule  into  the  hall  as  he  came  blindly  in  pursuit. 
She  did  noj:  stop  until  she  had  descended  the  flight 
of  stairs.  Below,  she  turned,  and  perceived  his  pas- 
sion distorted  face  glowering  down  from  the  upper 
landing. 

"  Will  you  kindly  bring  my  things  down,  Mr.  Sas- 
soon?  I'm  going  now,"  she  said,  breathless,  but  ex- 
hilarated by  the  escape  and  the  victory. 

"  Come  and  get  them !  "  he  said  furiously,  and  he 
disappeared. 

She  frowned,  not  relishing  the  turn,  calculating 
how  to  extricate  herself.  At  length,  reluctantly,  she 
descended  the  second  flight,  resolved  to  send  a  boy 
up-stairs  for  her  things.  The  vestibule  in  which  she 
found  herself  was  a  large  one  with  glass  doors  open- 
ing into  the  noisy  restaurant,  played  over  by  an  en- 
ergetic Hungarian  orchestra.  As  she  hesitated, 
conscious  of  the  strange  figure  she  presented,  the 
glass  doors  swung  hastily  and  Harrigan  Blood  came 
out. 

"  Dodo !  I  thought  I  recognized  you !  "  he  cried, 
stopping  short.  "  What  in  the  name  of  the  incred- 
ible—" 

She  went  to  him  quickly,  grasping  his  arm,  actu- 
ated by  a  sudden  brilliant  plan  of  revenge. 

"  Mr.  Blood  —  Harrigan !  "  she  said  quickly.  "  I 
was  brought  here  by  a  gentleman  who  had  told  me  it 
was  to  be  a  party  of  eight  or  ten.  I  have  just  es- 


THE  SALAMANDER  443 

caped  from  the  trap  he  laid  for  me!  Will  you  give 
me  your  arm  while  I  go  and  reclaim  my  things  ? " 

"Will  I?  I'll  throttle  him!"  he  said  angrily. 
"  The  contemptible  cur !  Who  is  he?" 

"Sassoon!" 

"My  God!" 

They  went  upstairs,  and  pushed  aside  the  half- 
open  doors.  At  her  entrance,  Sassoon  turned  like  a 
startled  animal,  his  face  almost  unrecognizable  with 
rage.  In  his  fury  he  had  caught  his  napkin  and  torn 
it  into  shreds.  A  couple  of  chairs  were  overturned, 
and  the  covering  of  the  table  pulled  down.  At  the 
sight  of  Harrigan  Blood  striding  in  with  menacing 
looks,  Sassoon  checked  his  first  impetuous  advance, 
halting  abruptly,  murder  in  his  heart. 

"  I  have  come  for  my  things,  Mr.  Sassoon,  since 
you  would  not  bring  them  to  me,"  Dore  said,  "  and 
I  found  a  gentleman  to  accompany  me." 

"Is  it  true,  what  Miss 'Baxter  says?"  said  Harri- 
gan Blood,  clearing  the  space  that  separated  them. 
"  Did  you  bring  her  here  with  a  lie  —  to  a  trap?  " 

"  Mind  your  own  business !  "  cried  Sassoon,  with 
a  scream  of  rage.  "  Who  are  you  to  preach  moral- 
ity to  me?  You're  a  fine  one  to  reproach  any  one, 
you  are! " 

"  I've  done  a  lot  of  things  in  my  life,"  said  Blood, 
with  rising  wrath,  "  but  I  never  took  a  woman  with 
a  lie  —  like  a  thief!  Sassoon,  you're  a  coward  and 
a  dirty  cur !  " 

He  caught  him  by  the  throat  in  his  powerful  grip, 


444  THE  SALAMANDER 

and  slapped  him  twice  across  the  face;  then,  as  a  dog 
with  a  rat,  he  shook  him  in  the  air  and  flung  him  in 
a  heap  against  the  foot  of  a  chair,  where  he  lay, 
stunned  and  gasping  for  breath.  Dodo,  with  her  hat 
and  coat,  came  out  hastily,  very  much  frightened, 
awed  at  the  sight  of  men  in  rage  and  combat. 

"  Oh,  let's  go  —  let's  go !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  is  he 
hurt?  You've  not — " 

"Killed  him?  No,  so  much  the  worse!"  Blood 
said  scornfully.  "Now  get  away  quickly;  there 
must  be  no  scandal !  " 

Below,  on  the  sidewalk,  he  placed  her  in  a  taxicab, 
but  refused  to  enter  with  her. 

"  No,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head.  "  I'm  a  very 
human  person,  Miss  Baxter;  I'm  not  going  in  the 
way  of  temptation,  when  I  know  there's  no  hope. 
It's  good-by,  young  lady !  " 

"  I  do  like  you  —  I  admire  you,  Mr.  Blood,"  she 
said,  retaining  his  hand.  "  Don't  hate  me !  " 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  struggling  with 
his  emotion.  At  last  he  said  quietly,  watching  her 
with  his  strange  eyes,  that  had  the  glowing  quality 
of  the  feline: 

"Dodo,  shall  I  come?" 

She  drew  back  as  if  wounded;  then  she  closed  the 
door,  afraid. 

"No!" 

"You  see?    Good-by!" 

"  Don't  hate  me ! "  she  said,  suddenly  leaning  out 
of  the  window  and  seizing  his  arm  convulsively. 
"  You  mustn't !  I'm  only  a  wild,  crazy  little  thing." 


THE  SALAMANDER  445 

"  You're  all  that!  "  he  said  gravely.  "  Look  here! 
After  to-night  I've  a  right  to  say  this.  Look  out! 
You're  going  to  get  into  trouble;  mind  what  I  say 
—  the  game's  dangerous !  " 

He  raised  his  hat,  signaled  the  driver  and  turned 
to  walk  in  the  direction  of  the  subway.  She  was 
immensely  sorry  to  lose  him.  She  wanted  to  call 
after  him  again  not  to  hate  her.  For  she  had  a  feel- 
ing now  that  all  men,  all  whom  she  had  gathered 
about  her,  hated  her  or  would  come  to  hate  her;  that 
it  was  not  love  she  inspired,  but  only  an  antagonism. 
She  was  not  sure  even  of  Massingale.  How  could 
he  love  her,  when  she  brought  nothing  but  unrest  into 
his  life  —  when  she  did  nothing  but  make  him  mis- 
erable and  unhappy  from  morning  to  night?  Then, 
she  felt  it  was  the  approach  of  the  fatal  tenth  of 
March  that  was  disorganizing  her,  horribly  hypno- 
tizing her,  shattering  all  her  nerves,  and  she  said  to 
herself  that  it  could  not  go  on;  she  must  find  peace 
somewhere;  she  would  not  wait.  To-morrow  there 
would  be  a  decision  between  Massingale  and  herself. 
Either  that,  or  she  would  go  to  Blainey,  where  she 
belonged,  and  enter  the  world  of  work.  To-morrow, 
without  further  delay  she  would  decide  her  life,  be- 
fore Lindaberry  could  return,  or  that  haunting  image 
of  her  former  life. 

And  when,  at  length,  she  had  passed  from  the  taxi- 
cab  up  the  stoop  and  into  the  dim-lit  hall,  Josh  Neb- 
bins  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  gloom  of  the  parlor,  as 
she  had  known  for  days  he  would  come  out  of  those 
musty  shadows  which  were  like  mists  of  the  past. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

HAD  Sassoon  himself  imagined  the  climax,  he 
could  have  found  nothing  more  terribly  effica- 
cious than  this  recrudescence  from  the  past  of 
Joshua  Nebbins.  She  was  at  the  hat-rack,  eagerly 
running  through  the  mail,  when  her  hand  stopped, 
as  if  paralyzed,  at  the  sound  of  a  soft  whistle  from 
the  parlor,  two  low  notes  and  a  higher,  followed  by 
a  chuckling  laugh.  She  turned,  knowing  instantly 
who  it  was. 

"Flossie!  Bless  your  sparkling  eyes!"  cried  a 
voice. 

She  entered  hastily,  fearing  the  publicity  of  the 
hall.  He  was  advancing,  radiant  and  confident,  arms 
open.  She  put  out  her  hands  hastily  to  ward  him 
off.  He  saw,  and  halted. 

"  Oh!  That's  the  game,  is  it?  All  right!  Shake! 
Miss  Baxter,  how  do  you  do  ?  " 

"Hello,  Josh!"  she  said  coldly. 

Now  that  the  meeting  had  come,  like  an  animal 
driven  to  bay,  she  was  possessed  of  a  desperate  cour- 
age. This  interview  should  be  the  last!  There 
would  be  no  mincing  of  words.  She  must  be  free ! 

They  stood  a  moment  looking  at  each  other.  He 
had  scarcely  changed.  She  even  seemed  to  remem- 
ber the  coat  he  wore,  a  golden  brown  whip-cord, 
which  she  had  once  so  admired!  Yes,  he  was  the 

446 


THE  SALAMANDER  447 

same  as  she  remembered  him:  a  red  tie,  a  death's- 
head  pin,  the  thin  carmine  edge  of  a  silk  handkerchief 
protruding  from  the  breast  pocket,  a  buckskin  vest 
with  glass  buttons.  Probably  the  same  shoes,  too, 
were  there,  concealed  in  the  shadows,  patent  leathei 
with  chamois  tops. 

He  was  not  in  the  least  abashed  by  the  formality 
of  her  reception.  He  had  never  been  abashed  in  his 
life,  and  he  was  looking  at  her  now  with  an  impudent 
confidence  in  the  upstarting  nose,  the  wide  grinning 
mouth,  the  Yankee  sharpness  of  jaw  and  cheek- 
bones, and  the  alert  eyes,  which  would  admit  of  no 
refusals. 

"Prettier  than  ever!"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  long 
admiring  whistle.  "  That's  a  new  trick  with  the 
hair,  and,  Floss,  you  certainly  are  the  swell  dresser! 
Well,  Mrs.  Nebbins,  how  are  you  ?  " 

He  plunged  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  slanted  his 
head  and  gazed  at  her  for  all  the  world  like  a  saucy 
sparrow.  She  knew  that  half  measures  would  be 
vain,  and  she  went  directly  to  the  issue. 

"  Josh,  I  have  a  good  many  things  to  say  to  you,  a 
good  many  to  make  you  understand,"  she  said  ab- 
ruptly. "  Wait  here !  I'll  be  down  directly,  and 
then  we'll  go  out  somewhere,  where  we  can  talk ! " 

"  Are  you  married  ?  "  he  said,  chuckling. 

"  No !     Why  ?  "  she  said,  surprised. 

'That's  the  only  thing  I  was  afraid  of!"  he  said, 
shooting  his  cuff  with  a  jerk  of  his  crooked  thumb. 
"  All  right,  kid !  Run  along !  I  can  wait !  Pa- 
tience is  my  middle  name!" 


448  THE  SALAMANDER 

She  went  to  her  room,  running  up  the  steps,  her 
anger  increasing,  no  longer  fearing  him,  but  a  prey 
to  all  the  cruel  impulses  of  scorn  and  contempt.  This 
past  was  too  ridiculous!  It  must  end,  at  once  and 
forever!  There  was  a  note  from  Lindaberry,  which 
she  placed  hurriedly  in  the  trunk,  where  were  already 
his  other  unread  letters.  She  searched  for  the 
money  Winona  had  sent,  and  suddenly  remembered 
that  it  had  been  in  her  pocket  all  the  time.  One 
thing  she  was  coldly  determined  on  —  to  pay  him 
back  the  old  debt  that  had  set  like  a  leaden  weight  on 
her  conscience!  That,  at  least,  should  no  longer 
stand  as  a  reproach!  But,  to  accomplish  this,  it  was 
necessary  to  accept  what  had  at  first  filled  her  with 
horror.  This  caused  her  to  recoil  a  moment ;  but  she 
remembered  what  sums  she  had  just  refused,  and  she 
convinced  herself  that  she  had  the  right  to  use  this 
little  amount  for  such  a  worthy  object.  Besides,  she 
would  consider  it  only  as  a  loan. 

Then  she  went  to  the  telephone  and  called  up  Judge 
Massingale,  giving  him  a  rendezvous  at  ten  o'clock, 
for  she  was  determined  to  take  no  more  than  an  hour 
to  end  all  relations  with  the  past  she  had  so  longed 
to  see  buried  and  forgot.  That  out  of  the  way, 
she  would  be  free  to  deal  with  Massingale  to-night. 
With  him  she  would  have  done  with  fencing  and  act- 
ing. She  would  meet  him  in  simple  trust,  in  perfect 
faith.  Everything  should  be  on  the  big  scale  — 
nothing  petty,  nothing  unworthy.  Now  to  have 
done  with  the  other! 

They  went  to  the  cafe  of  one  of  the  great  apart- 


THE  SALAMANDER  449 

ment  hotels  off  Madison  Square,  where  she  felt  cer- 
tain she  would  meet  no  one  she  knew,  ensconcing 
themselves  in  a  discreet  corner. 

"Don't  mind  my  feeding?"  he  asked,  in  perfect 
good  humor.  "  Couldn't  stop  for  grub  or  anything 
else,  when  I  had  a  chance  to  see  you,  Floss ! " 

He  ordered  roast  beef  hash  with  a  poached  egg, 
spareribs  with  boiled  cauliflower,  and  two  charlotte 
russes.  The  very  sounds  made  her  shiver.  She 
glanced  about  uneasily;  but  the  restaurant  was  de- 
serted, except  for  a  fat  German  in  a  far  corner, 
languidly  dipping  his  heavy  mustache  into  a  foaming 
stein  of  beer. 

"  Josh,"  she  said  suddenly,  extending  her  hand 
where  Lindaberry's  ring  shone,  "  I'm  engaged !  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right !  "  he  said,  spreading  his  nap- 
kin, from  the  second  button  of  his  coat,  and  bisecting 
a  loaf  of  bread. 

"  You  don't  understand !  " 

"Don't  I?  Of  course  I  do!  You're  engaged? 
Well,  I  expected  that!  Not  the  first  time,  is  it?  It's 
a  convenient  sort  of  state  to  be  in.  That  doesn't 
worry  me ! " 

"If  I'd  known  where  to  write  you,  I  should  have 
let  you  know !  " 

"  Good  reason  why  I  kept  quiet !  " 

"  And,"  she  said  suddenly,  producing  the  hundred- 
dollar  bill.  "  I  should  have  paid  you  this  back  long 
ago!" 

He  frowned  and  drew  back  in  his  chair,  his  knife 
in  his  fist,  rather  comic  than  terrible. 


450  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Here !  I  don't  like  that !  Not  in  the  rules  of 
the  game ! " 

"  It  was  a  debt.  I  certainly  am  not  going  to  ac- 
cept money." 

"  Hold  up!  "  With  the  point  of  his  knife,  disdain- 
fully, he  steered  the  bill  from  in  front  of  him  to  a 
place  of  seclusion.  "  This  ain't  important,  anyhow. 
It's  your  manner,  kid.  Rather  uppish.  Now,  let's 
get  a  few  things  straight  before  we  start.  Do  you 
remember  one  evening  back  in  Cincinnati,  in  a  howl- 
ing dirty  depot,  when  you  wanted  to  give  up  every- 
thing and  marry  me  ?  Do  you  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  and  she  blushed.  Great  heav- 
ens! Was  it  possible? 

"  And  what  did  I  do  ?  I  was  honest !  I  told  you 
I  was  going  to  get  a  start  first,  to  be  sure  I  was  the 
kind  of  a  feller  who  could  give  you  what  you  want. 
Didn't  I?" 

"  You  should  have  married  me  then ! "  she  said 
quickly. 

"Perhaps!  But  I  didn't.  Why?  On  your  ac- 
count! Just  let's  keep  these  things  in  mind.  If  I 
come  back  now,  I'm  to  get  as  fair  a  chance  as  the  next 
fellow!  Now,  Floss,  don't  come  any  airs  over  me! 
It  won't  go !  " 

The  hash  arrived,  and  he  attacked  it,  all  smiles. 
How  was  she  to  make  him  understand  the  difference 
between  them  now  —  the  immense  worldly  distance 
that  now  separated  them?  She  remembered  Sas- 
soon's  analysis,  and  adopted  it  as  an  inspiration. 

"  My  dear  Josh,"  she  said  in  a  more  conciliatory 


THE  SALAMANDER  451 

tone,  "  even  if  I  were  not  engaged, —  and  engaged 
to  a  man  I  adore  blindly, —  there  wouldn't  be  the 
slightest  possibility  for  anything  between  us.'* 

"  We'll  see !  "  he  said,  unruffled,  his  mouth  half  full. 

"  Your  chance  was  in  Cincinnati !  "  she  said  delib- 
erately. "  That  was  your  mistake,  or  your  good  luck ! 
I'm  different  now  —  so  changed  I  don't  recognize  my- 
self!" 

"Rats!" 

"  True !  I'm  a  vain,  luxury-loving  girl,  who  has 
got  to  live  on  excitement !  I  couldn't  be  happy  a  day 
away  from  all  this!  I  adore  New  York!  I've  got 
to  be  on  the  go  every  minute!  If  I  married  a  poor 
man,  I'd  ruin  him  in  a  month ! " 

"What?" 

"  In  a  month !  I've  got  the  taste,  the  habit  of  lux- 
ury; I  just  can't  do  without  it!  The  man  I  marry 
has  got  to  be  able  to  give  me  everything  I  see  other 
women  have  —  dresses,  jewels,  automobiles, —  or  I 
should  be  miserable!  You  see,  I  don't  spare  myself; 
I  tell  you  the  truth.  I've  got  to  have  money,  and  I've 
got  to  have  New  York !  " 

He  reflected  a  moment,  studying  the  spareribs, 
which  had  just  arrived. 

"  Well,  now,  that  might  be  arranged,"  he  said 
thoughtfully.  "  I  like  this  little  burg  myself." 

"  What's  the  use  of  beating  around  the  bush  ?  "  she 
said  suddenly.  "  Josh,  this  is  the  truth ;  I've  grown 
away  from  you  and  from  all  that  old  life.  I've  gone 
into  a  new.  I'm  in  love,  madly,  blindly,  and  there's 
no  other  man  in  the  world  for  me !  You  won't  under- 


452  THE  SALAMANDER 

stand!  You  force  me  to  be  cruel!  It's  ended  be- 
tween us,  and  I  never  wish  it  to  be  brought  up  again. 
And  if  you  are  a  gentleman,  you  won't  pursue  me; 
you'll  go  away !  " 

"  Gentleman's  a  stretchy  word,  kid ! "  he  said,  re- 
fusing to  be  angry.  "  But  I'm  here,  and  I'll  stick ! 
You  can't  ruffle  me !  I'm  not  here  to  get  frothy  at  the 
mouth ;  I'm  here  to  win  you  back ! " 

She  tried  every  means  to  open  his  eyes.  She  left 
nothing  unsaid.  It  had  no  more  effect  on  him  than 
the  wind  against  a  cliff.  He  answered  all  attacks 
good-naturedly,  perfectly  obstinate  and  perfectly  re- 
solved. When  they  returned  over  the  short  blocks  to 
Miss  Pirn's,  she  said  at  last,  desperately : 

"  I  tell  you  frankly,  I  won't  see  you !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will !  "  he  said. 

"  But  since  you  know  I'm  going  to  be  married?  " 

"  Don't  know  anything  of  the  kind ! "  he  said 
gruffly.  "  Now,  Floss,  just  put  this  away  in  your 
thinker.  You  can't  get  rid  of  me.  You'll  never  get 
rid  of  me  until  you're  married  —  and  then  I  won't 
give  you  up  till  I  go  to  the  church  and  see  you  come 
down  —  not  up,  down  the  aisle  hitched  to  another 
man!" 

"Another  thing,  Josh.  If  you  don't  take  the 
money,"  she  said,  as  they  came  in  view  of  Miss  Pirn's 
and  Massingale's  automobile  waiting,  "  I'll  tear  it 
up!" 

"  Hold  up !  I'll  take  it !  "  he  said  quickly.  "  Only 
this  is  the  way  you'll  ask  it :  '  Mr.  Nebbins,  you  were 
always  square  by  me,  and  I'm  grateful  to  you  for  it. 


THE  SALAMANDER  453 

Thank  you  for  what  you  loaned  me,  and  do  me  the 
favor  to  take  it  back ! '  Say  that,  or  it  can  lie  there !  " 

She  had  a  horror  of  Massingale's  coming  in  contact 
with  this  undisciplined  savage.  She  would  do  any- 
thing to  prevent  that.  So  she  swallowed  her  pride 
and  repeated  the  phrase. 

"  Good,  Flossie !  "  he  exclaimed  joyfully.  "  That's 
like  old  times,  when  you  used  to  have  your  tantrums ! 
Just  remember,  now,  who  knows  you  and  who  you 
can't  fool !  To-morrow  ?  " 

She  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  holding  out  her 
hand. 

"  What's  the  game  now  ?  "  he  asked  suspiciously. 
"  Don't  want  me  to  come  up  ?  Oh,  that's  all  right ! 
Don't  believe  in  mixing  things  myself!  To-morrow 
for  lunch?" 

"  Good-by !  "  she  said  emphatically,  running  up  the 
steps. 

"  To-morrow!  "  he  called  after  her. 

When  she  entered,  Massingale  was  in  the  parlor, 
and  the  bamboo  curtains  at  the  -windows  were  still 
tinkling,  where  he  had  been  posted  in  watch.  Neb- 
bins  had  rilled  her  with  such  a  fear  of  the  old  ascend- 
ency that,  despite  the  publicity  of  the  room,  she  flung 
her  arms  about  his  neck  and  lay  against  his  shoulder 
like  a  frightened  fluttering  bird. 

"  Ah,  now  I  am  happy ! "  she  said  softly,  running 
her  fingers  in  a  caress  over  the  tip  of  his  ear. 

;<  You  change  quickly !  "  he  said  coldly,  resisting. 

''You  were  at  the  window?"  she  asked,  compre- 
hending instantly  the  cause  of  his  mistrust. 


454  THE  SALAMANDER 

"I  was!" 

"  I  couldn't  help  it !     It  was  — " 

"  Don't  invent !  "  he  said  roughly.  "  I'm  not  in  the 
mood!" 

"  No,  no,  I  won't !  "  she  said,  with  a  sudden  re- 
solve. "  Only,  let's  get  away  from  here  first.  I  have 
so  much  to  say  to  you  to-night !  " 

As  they  went  down  the  steps  to  his  automobile,  she 
glanced  nervously  up  and  down  the  dimly  lighted  ave- 
nue. Nebbins  was  there,  as  she  had  expected,  leaning 
against  a  stoop,  his  hat  on  one  side,  waiting  to  see  if 
she  would  come  out.  She  sprang  into  the  closed  car, 
extinguishing  the  light. 

"Where?" 

"Anywhere  out  of  this.     Up-town!" 

They  had  to  pass  him,  still  waiting  and  curious, 
half  revealed  under  the  pale  region  of  a  near  lamp- 
post. She  waited  breathlessly,  hoping  that  Massin- 
gale  would  not  perceive  him.  Vain  hope !  He  leaned 
forward  abruptly,  saying: 

"Who  is  that  man?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  everything !     Just  a  moment !  " 

She  drew  nearer  to  him,  fastening  her  fingers,  like 
a  lonely  child,  in  the  collar  of  his  coat;  laying  her 
head  against  his  arm,  very  quiet ;  tired,  with  a  longing 
for  strength  and  petting.  But,  stiff  and  resentful,  he 
did  not  put  his  arm  about  her.  Suddenly  he  burst 
out: 

"Dodo!  I  can't  stand  it!  This  is  driving  me 
crazy!  What  do  I  know  of  you?  What  do  you 
want  me  to  think?  You  go  and  come.  You  tell  me 


THE  SALAMANDER  455 

one  minute  you  love  me,  and  the  next,  where  are  you  ? 
Where  do  you  go?  Whom  do  you  see?  What  is 
your  life?  Who  is  this  man  who  comes  as  far  as 
your  door,  and  then  waits  on  the  corner?  Whom  are 
you  with  until  three  o'clock  in  the  morning?  And 
Harrigan  Blood,  and  Sassoon,  and  how  many  others? 
Dodo,  I  tell  you,  you  are  driving  me  wild.  I  suffer ! 
If  you  knew  what  I've  been  going  through  these  days, 
in  every  way !  " 

He  stopped  abruptly;  he  hardly  recognized  himself 
in  this  frantic  complainant. 

"  Dodo,  I  tell  you,  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer ! 
You  have  disorganized  everything  in  my  life.  I'm 
half  mad!" 

"Yes,  I  am  very  wicked,  very  cruel  to  you!"  she 
said,  with  a  lump  in  her  throat,  pressing  his  arm  con- 
vulsively. "  I  know  it !  I  know  it !  I've  said  it  to 
myself  a  hundred  times  over.  I  can't  help  it!  Why 
am  I  so?  I  don't  know!  Perhaps  it  were  better  if 
you  went  away,  if  you  never  saw  me  again.  At 
least,  you  wouldn't  hate  me.  Yes,  go !  You  had  bet- 
ter go !  That's  it  Go !  Go !  " 

She  stopped,  and  each  was  seized  with  the  chill  of 
this  awful  thought.  He  gave  a  deep  sigh  and  put  his 
arm  around  her.  She  crowded  close  to  him,  feeling 
so  little,  of  such  small  consequence,  staring  out  at 
the  battling  currents  of  brutal  thoroughfares.  The 
clamor  of  the  city  came  roaring  at  their  windows  — 
immense  glaring  cars  with  strident  bells,  iron  masses 
above  shattering  the  air,  even  the  earth  below  peri- 
odically shaken  with  the  rumble  of  multitudes  tearing 


456  THE  SALAMANDER 

through  the  bowels  of  the  city.  Confusion,  riot  mul- 
tiplied, echoed  and  reechoed ;  masses  of  sky-cleaving 
prisons;  millions  of  lights,  blinding  and  bewildering; 
and  everywhere  the  multitude,  humanity  in  thousands 
on  thousands,  crowding  their  path,  spying  on  every 
action,  drowning  out  sigh  and  laughter!  What  peace 
or  tranquillity  was  there?  What  fragile  thing  could 
endure  against  the  buffeting?  What  mattered?  By 
Massingale's  side,  shivering,  clinging,  she  felt  the 
weak  tears  suddenly  rising,  seized  by  a  horror  of  this 
life  which  had  to  be  lived,  some  way  or  other,  in  fear 
of  what  might  follow. 

"  Be  honest !  Tell  me  all  you've  hidden !  Let  me 
know  the  truth,  at  least!"  he  said  suddenly. 

She  sat  up,  drawing  away  from  him,  readjusting 
her  hat.  Yes,  she  would  throw  herself  on  his  gener- 
osity ;  she  would  tell  him  the  truth  —  perhaps  not  the 
truth  in  every  detail,  but  all  that  was  vital.  For  she 
could  not  bear  that  he  should  see  Josh  Nebbins  as  he 
really  was.  The  vulgarity,  the  pettiness  of  it,  she 
would  keep  from  him,  divining  how  his  aristocratic 
temperament  would  revolt  at  the  thought  that  such 
arms  had  once  held  her  as  his  now  encircled  her. 

"  It  is  nothing  bad !  "  she  said.  "  There  is  nothing 
in  my  life  that  I  am  ashamed  of.  That  is  the  truth ! 
Only,  I  am  upset,  irritated,  terribly  irritated.  I  am 
passing  through  a  most  disagreeable  experience.  The 
man  you  saw  I  was  engaged  to  three  years  ago,  when 
I  was  an  ignorant  foolish  girl.  I  regret  it  bitterly ! 
We  were  totally  unsuited.  Now  it  is  ridiculous,  hu- 
miliating !  I  never  expected  to  see  him  again !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  457 

"Who  is  he?  "he  asked. 

"  Oh,  there  is  nothing  wrong  with  him ! "  she  said 
instantly.  "  He  was  in  the  ministry,  in  settlement 
work  —  very  honest,  very  good.  Then  he  went  on  a 
paper.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened !  I  was  very 
religious  then;  I  wanted  to  devote  my  life — " 

"  But  why  didn't  you  break  it  off,  Dodo?  " 

"  I  did !  But  you  don't  know  him !  He  wouldn't 
marry  me  then  until  he'd  saved  some  money,  writing 
articles  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Now  he  can't  see 
how  I've  changed,  how  impossible  it  would  be.  And 
oh,  it  makes  me  shudder!  It's  such  a  narrow  walled- 
in  little  life!  So  barren,  so  ugly!" 

"  Send  him  away !  " 

"HI  could!  He  won't  understand.  And  when 
I'm  with  him  I  feel  as  if  I  were  being  dragged  back 
to  all  I  hate !  He's  a  terrible  man !  Sometimes  I 
really  am  afraid  he'll  force  me  to  marry  him.  Oh,  I 
assure  you,  I  am  very,  very  unhappy !  " 

"  And  the  ring,  Dodo  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief, leaning  over  and  touching  her  hand. 

It  was  as  if  a  sudden  blast  of  cold  air  had  been  let 
in.  She  drew  back. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  of  that  now,"  she  said  hastily. 
"  When  you  have  the  right  —  and  that  depends  on 
you  —  I  will  tell  you,  for  it  is  something  that  I  am 
very  glad  of !  " 

"  Dodo,  I  must  know.  I  can't  go  on  like  this !  I 
simply  can't." 

"  Neither  can  I !  "  she  said,  with  a  sudden  lump  in 
her  throat.  "  Don't  you  see  how  I  am  going  to 


458  THE  SALAMANDER 

pieces?  Don't  you  know  why  I  do  such  wild  crazy 
things?  Oh,  if  I  were  only  sure  of  you!" 

"  If  I  could  be  sure  of  you! "  he  retorted  bitterly. 

"  What  would  you  do  ?  "  she  asked,  grasping  his 
arm  eagerly.  "  Would  you  do  as  I  wish  ?  Would 
you  dare?  " 

"  Dodo,  I  wish  to  be  divorced  and  to  marry  you !  " 
he  said  abruptly. 

She  shrank  from  him  with  a  cry  of  disappointment. 
She  sought  romance,  uncalculated  and  overwhelming; 
she  wished  to  hear  him,  driven  beyond  himself,  crying 
tempestuous  words  in  her  ears,  ready  for  any  sacrifice ; 
and  instead,  he  was  concerned  with  planning  a  con- 
ventional solution. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  cried,  bitterly  disillusioned.  "  Oh, 
you  don't  love  me  as  I  love  you,  if  you  can  think  only 
of  that!" 

"  But  why  not,  Dodo  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  marriage !  I  hate  the  very  word !  "  she 
said  indignantly.  "  That  would  spoil  everything !  I 
want  to  be  Dodo!  I  don't  want  to  change.  And 
you  want  to  make  me!  What  would  happen?  After 
a  while  you  would  want  me  to  be  like  your  formal 
women,  society  women,  and  I  should  be  bored,  or  you 
would  get  tired  of  me.  And  then  my  heart  would 
break!" 

"  But,  great  God !  child,  haven't  you  any  moral- 
ity?" he  exclaimed,  beyond  himself.  "Have  I  al- 
ways got  to  protect  you  against  yourself?  " 

"  Is  it  my  morality,"  she  said,  opening  her  eyes,  "  or 


THE  SALAMANDER  459 

what  society  will  think  of  you,  that  you  are  worried 
about?" 

He  was  silent,  without  an  answer. 

"  Listen !  "  she  continued  determinedly.  "  This 
must  stop!  I  said  I  was  going  to  decide  everything 
on  the  tenth.  I'm  not!  I  can't  stand  it!  To-mor- 
row I'm  going  to  settle  everything.  Do  you  love  me 
enough  to  run  away  with  me  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Do  you  really,  honestly,  in  the  bottom  of  your 
crazy  romantic  heart,  believe  you  would  do  such  a 
thing?"  he  asked  solemnly. 

She  was  instantly  a-tremble  with  an  electric  ardor. 

"  Would  I  ?  Would  I  sacrifice  this  for  something 
real,  something  immense,  for  a  perfect  blinding  love? 
Oh,  how  can  you  ask ! " 

"And  if  I  come  to-morrow  and  say  'Come!'  you 
will  leave  everything  and  go  with  me,  anywhere  ?  " 

She  put  her  two  hands  in  his  with  a  gesture  of  a 
Siddons. 

"Anywhere!" 

He  retained  his  doubts,  but  he  did  not  discuss.  Fi- 
nally he  said : 

"  Very  well !  To-morrow  afternoon  I  will  come 
and  tell  you  my  decision !  You  are  right.  This  must 
end,  one  way  or  the  other !  " 

"When?" 

"At  five  o'clock!" 

"At  five,  then.     If  not— " 

"If  not,  what?" 

"  I  shall  have  made  another  decision !  " 


460  THE  SALAMANDER 

They  said  little  during  the  remainder  of  the  trip 
back,  the  gravity  of  the  crisis  that  had  been  imposed 
affecting  them  both.  She  had  only  faint  belief  that 
he  would  come,  as  she  wished  him  to  come;  and  her 
eyes  resting  on  the  sudden  electric  paraphernalia  of 
the  theaters,  the  gilded  outward  trappings,  the  bill- 
boards, and  the  displays  on  the  sidewalk,  she  lost  her- 
self in  reveries,  feeling  the  mountain  of  drudgery  she 
would  have  to  move.  Besides,  another  thing  ob- 
truded itself  between  them  —  the  lie,  slight  as  it  had 
been,  that  she  had  told.  She  was  vaguely  aware  of 
it,  unable  to  return  into  the  intimacy  of  her  first  cling- 
ing attitude.  Arrived  at  the  house,  he  mounted  the 
steps  with  her,  and  said  gravely : 

"  Very  well,  Dodo !  I  take  you  at  your  word.  I 
don't  know  what  it  will  be.  What  you  ask  from  me 
is  as  great,  probably  a  greater  sacrifice  than  you  would 
make.  But  I  may  do  as  you  wish!  To-morrow,  in 
any  case,  I  will  come !  " 

He  did  not  attempt  to  kiss  her  in  the  shadow  of  the 
vestibule,  nor  did  she  think  of  it.  It  was  very  seri- 
ous, this  parting.  She  felt  the  weight  of  the  impend- 
ing decision  as  she  went  slowly  to  her  room,  and  she 
found  herself  halting,  from  time  to  time,  in  the  dark 
ascent,  a  little  frightened,  a  little  strange,  asking  her- 
self if  it  were  possible,  after  all,  if  the  incredible  were 
to  come,  if  he  really  was  to  put  her  to  the  test. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

SASSOON  came  to  see  her  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  just  as  she  was  completing  her  toilet 
For,  though  over  the  city  was  the  heavy  somnolence 
of  Sunday,  she  could  not  sleep;  in  fact,  she  had 
scarcely  closed  her  eyes  all  night.  It  was  daylight, 
and  yet  it  was  unreal.  She  was  asking  herself,  in- 
credulously, if  the  moment  of  decision  had  come, — 
the  hour  she  had  contemplated,  it  seemed,  all  her  life, 
—  when  Josephus  brought  his  card.  It  gave  her 
quite  a  shock,  this  return  of  the  persistent  hunter, 
whom  she  had  left,  groveling  and  stunned,  at  the  foot 
of  a  disordered  table.  What  did  it  mean?  She 
glanced  at  the  card  again.  Across  it  was  written  in 
minuscule  letters: 

"Please  see  me,  just  for  a  moment! " 

She  hesitated,  tempted  by  the  sudden  and  the  inex- 
plicable. Was  it  possible  that  he  credited  her  with 
acting  a  part,  that  his  passion  could  crowd  out  all 
sense  of  shame?  And,  finally,  what  could  he  say, 
after  last  night? 

"  I'll  be  down  in  a  few  minutes !  "  she  said,  with  a 
nod.  Then  she  recalled  Josephus  hastily,  giving  ex- 
plicit orders  that,  if  Nebbins  came,  he  was  to 
be  told  that  she  had  gone  on  a  visit,  that  she 
would  not  be  back  until  the  next  noon;  under  no  cir- 
cumstances was  he  to  be  admitted.  She  glanced  un- 

461 


462  THE  SALAMANDER 

easily  into  the  room  where  Snyder,  curled  up  in  a  ball 
on  the  bed,  was  sleeping  the  heavy  sleep  of  those  who 
consume  the  night  six  days  of  the  week.  What 
would  she  say  to  Snyder,  and  how  avoid  her  question- 
ing glances,  this  day  of  days? 

When,  at  length,  she  entered  the  stuffy  parlor,  she 
beheld  Sassoon  in  the  raw,  no  longer  languid  and 
heavy  of  eye,  but  uncontrollably  aroused,  pacing  the 
floor  in  feverish  impatience.  The  look  he  gave  her 
was  so  like  that  of  a  maddened  animal  that  she  halted, 
afraid;  and  the  fear  that  ran  through  her  bones  was 
not  only  of  the  present,  but  a  sudden  terrified  compre- 
hension of  the  past  —  of  what  she  had  risked  and 
escaped.  She  remained  standing,  with  the  table  inter- 
posed as  a  barrier  between  them. 

"Sit  down  —  please!"  he  said,  looking  at  her  ea- 
gerly, in  his  voice  a  note  of  hoarse  avidity  that  gave  it 
a  strange  hurried  quality. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  to  me?  "  she  said,  without 
moving. 

"  Miss  Baxter,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  make  your  own 
conditions ! " 

"  What !     You  are  not  ashamed  ?  " 

"  Make  your  own  conditions !  I  will  agree  to  any- 
thing!" 

"  There  are  no  conditions !  " 

"  Wait ! "  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  document, 
his  ringers  trembling  so  he  could  hardly  unbutton  his 
coat,  crumpled  it  in  his  emotion  and  resumed : 

"First,  I  have  arranged  everything!  You  will 
marry  —  not  a  trainer  or  a  secretary,  but  a  gentle- 


THE  SALAMANDER  463 

man,  Captain  Markett-Blount,  an  English  gentleman 
whom  I  have  bought.  No-— listen  to  me!  Under- 
stand everything!  I  am  not  putting  you  into  the 
demi-monde;  I'm  giving  you  a  chance  at  everything. 
You  will  have  a  social  position.  You  will  go  wher- 
ever I  want  you  to  go.  You  can  remain  married,  or 
you  can  divorce,  when  you  want.  You  will  have  a 
husband  who  will  do  as  I  wish !  I  give  him  fifty  thou- 
sand for  his  name.  I  will  give  him  the  same  to  free 
you.  You  will  marry  the  hour  you  say  —  to-night. 
You  will  dine  at  my  house;  you  will  visit  me  on  the 
same  footing  as  Mrs.  Sassoon's  friends.  In  a  week 
you  will  join  a  party  on  my  yacht,  and  go  with  us  to 
cruise  into  the  Mediterranean,  to  Egypt,  anywhere! 
No  one  will  say  a  word  —  no  one  will  dare !  You  will 
be  in  exactly  the  same  position  as  a  hundred  women  in 
society  —  any  one  who  would  come  at  a  whistle  from 
me!  As  for  you — " 

"  As  for  me  ?  "  she  repeated,  fascinated  despite  her- 
self. 

"  I  will  give  you  now,  simply  on  your  word,  any- 
thing you  ask.  Name  any  sum.  More,  I  will  do 
what  I  have  never  done.  Here,  look !  Here  is  a  con- 
tract in  black  and  white.  Have  it  examined  by  your 
own  lawyer.  Write  down  whatever  sum  you  want. 
Make  it  for  one  year  or  ten  —  I'll  sign  it !  You  can 
hold  it  over  me;  you  can  blackmail  me,  if  you  wish! 
And  that  is  nothing  to  what  I'll  give  you  —  jewels, 
houses — •" 

"  But  you  are  mad !  "  she  cried,  horrified  at  the 
craving  in  his  voice  and  the  wildness  in  his  eyes. 


464  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Yes,  mad,  Dodo.  You  are  right  —  completely 
mad !  But  profit  by  it !  You  can  place  yourself  any- 
where; you  can  have  anything  from  me!  I  myself 
will  tell  you  how  to  torture  me,  to  rob  me  — " 

"Never!" 

"  Yes,  yes !  You  will !  You  can't  refuse  such 
things !  "  he  cried.  "  You're  not  a  fool !  Ah,  I  zc'z'// 
have  you ! " 

Suddenly,  as  she  shuddered  and  closed  her  hands 
over  her  eyes  with  loathing,  he  glided  around  the  ta- 
ble and  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Sassoon !  Here !  You  are  crazy !  "  she  cried, 
struggling  frantically. 

"What  do  I  care!" 

"  Let  me  go !     I'll  scream !  " 

"  What  do  I  care !  "  His  arms  inclosed  her  with 
the  strength  of  steel,  gripped  her  to  him,  struggling  to 
bring  her  face  to  his,  crying  incoherent  brutal  words 
that  left  her  sick  with  loathing,  a  cold  hard  pain  pen- 
etrating into  her  breast,  frightened,  helpless,  trying  to 
beat  away  the  acquiring  lips  with  savage  fingers.  At 
the  moment  when,  despairing,  she  was  about  to  cry 
aloud,  mercifully  there  came  a  ring  at  the  front  door. 
He  paused,  trembling  and  breathless ;  and  the  next  she 
had  torn  herself  away  from  him  and  escaped  up-stairs, 
shaken  in  every  muscle,  sick  with  horror  and  enraged 
loathing.  Snyder  up,  stared  in  amazement  at  her  dis- 
ordered figure.  The  soiling  embrace  seemed  to  cling 
to  her  arms,  to  her  neck,  to  the  very  clothes  she  had 
on.  She  tore  them  from  her  with  disgust,  with  sick- 
ening. 


THE  SALAMANDER  465 

"  Lord !  Dodo,  what's  happened  ?  "  cried  Snyder, 
starting  up. 

"  Sassoon !  Beast ! "  she  gasped,  choking  with 
rage.  She  flung  her  dress  in  a  corner,  and  plunged 
her  arms  and  head  into  the  wash-basin,  scrubbing 
them  with  a  towel  as  if  they  could  not  be  cleansed  — 
as  if  nothing  could  ever  cleanse  them  again. 

Then  suddenly  she  fell  into  a  fit  of  hysterical  weep- 
ing. Snyder,  frightened,  camped  at  her  side,  pressing 
her  to  her  breast,  calling  her  childish  names,  implored 
her  to  be  calm.  When  at  last,  from  sheer  fatigue,  she 
had  grown  quiet,  she  refused  all  questions,  unwilling 
to  talk;  all  at  once  solemn,  determined,  as  controlled 
and  impassive  as  a  moment  before  she  had  been  dis- 
organized and  frantic.  Snyder,  amazed,  watched  her 
as  if  she  were  a  statue. 

"  You're  all  right  now  ?  " 

"All  right!" 

"  You  can't  tell  me  ?     Nothing?" 

"Nothing!" 

At  the  end  of  a  moment  she  turned  thoughtfully. 
"Come  to  lunch,  just  in  Lexington  Avenue?" 

"  Sure,  petty !  " 

"  I  have  no  money." 

"Shut  up!    I  have  lots!" 

"  Good !  Now,  don't  talk  to  me,  Snyder !  I  don't 
want  to  talk !  " 

The  woman  nodded,  uneasy  and  suspicious,  mov- 
ing about  her  way,  but  never  losing  sight  of  the  girl. 

Dodo  went  to  the  trunk,  took  out  Lindaberry's  let- 
ters, and  returned  to  the  window.  Outside  it  was 


466  THE  SALAMANDER 

raining  by  fits  and  starts,  in  swerving  sheets,  wind- 
driven,  with  the  restlessness  of  March.  Handfuls  of 
drops  flung  against  the  panes  with  sudden  rattling 
crescendo.  She  opened  the  last  letter  and  read  it 
without  emotion,  in  a  dull,  listless,  painless,  concen- 
tration. It  began,  "  Dodo,  my  good  angel,"  and  it 
announced  the  thing  she  had  feared  —  his  imminent 
return. 

"  He  will  get  over  it! "  she  said,  staring  down  the 
avenue,  where  the  rain-drops  rebounded  from  the  as- 
phalt like  myriads  of  shimmering  insects,  swarming 
hungrily.  "  He  will  get  over  it,  and  he  will  live 
his  own  life,  and  he  will  end  by  being  grateful  to 
me!" 

She  remained  silent  a  long  while,  wondering,  think- 
ing of  Massingale,  of  Blainey,  watching  the  leaden 
clouds  breaking  and  rolling  above,  feeling  the  spray 
that  lashed  the  window,  cooling  her  cheeks,  fascinated 
by  the  rain-drops  that  swarmed,  like  myriad  white  in- 
sects, dancing  below.  There  was  so  much  to  do  — 
and  she  was  unable  to  do  anything. 

At  twelve  she  rose  quietly,  telephoned  to  Blainey 
for  an  afternoon  appointment,  signaled  Snyder  and 
led  the  way  to  luncheon. 

She  went  to  the  theater  by  the  subway  on  account 
of  a  famished  pocketbobk,  and  the  depressing  sensa- 
tion of  damp  ankles  and  muddied  skirts,  which  came 
to  her  as  she  clung  to  her  umbrella  and  leaned  against 
the  wind,  reinforced  her  determination  to  come  to  ac- 
tualities. 

"  Hello !     This  is  a  surprise !  "  he  said,  when  at  last 


THE  SALAMANDER  467 

she  had  come,  with  dripping  umbrella,  into  his  office. 
"  Must  have  got  my  dates  mixed !  " 

"No!  It's  I  who  am  tired  of  waiting!"  she  said 
abruptly. 

She  shed  her  rain-coat,  shaking  her  skirts  and 
glancing  at  her  muddy  shoes  in  delicate  disgust. 
Then  she  advanced  in  a  businesslike  manner  to  the 
seat  which  Blainey,  contrary  to  his  customary  bluff 
indifference,  was  presenting  to  her  with  extreme  def- 
erence. 

"  Blainey,  I've  come  to  the  end  of  my  rope ! "  she 
said,  folding  her  arms  over  her  breast.  "  I'm  through 
with  playing  and  cutting  up.  I'm  going  to  make  up 
my  mind  to  something  serious  now!  I've  got  to  talk 
to  some  one  about  it ;  that's  why  I've  come  to  you ! " 

"  Good  eye ! "  he  said,  nodding  and  reaching  for  a 
cigar.  "  I,  too,  have  got  something  to  thrash  out. 
Well,  kid,  what's  annoyin*  you?" 

"  Things  have  been  getting  mixed  up,  Blainey,"  she 
told  him  seriously.  "  I  guess  I'm  not  as  clever  as  I 
thought!"  She  stopped,  thinking  of  the  legion  that 
had  fallen  away:  of  Peavey,  who  had  gone;  of  Mas- 
singale,  who  was  still  a  mystery;  and  of  Nebbins,  a 
present  menace.  "  Either  that,  or  I'm  getting  tired  of 
fooling!" 

He  nodded  wisely,  waiting  for  her  to  continue. 
She  noted  the  rough  sympathetic  cut  of  visage, —  the 
mouth,  which  had  changed  its  grimness  for  a  tolerant 
humor,  the  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  her  with  keen 
perception,  softened  by  a  homely  adoration, —  and  she 
felt  that  she  could  talk  to  him  as  to  no  one  else.  He 


468  THE  SALAMANDER 

would  understand  everything,  the  good  and  the  bad 
in  her.  He  was  nearer  to  her,  to  her  kind,  to  an  un- 
derstanding of  her  longings  and  her  temptations,  than 
those  other  men  who  had  never  known  the  struggle  of 
a  self-made  life. 

"  Blainey,  it's  awfully  hard  to  decide,"  she  said, 
leaning  forward  and  clutching  her  knee.  "  I'm  in  a 
fix;  I  don't  know  what  I'll  do!  " 

"  Well,  first,"  he  asked,  with  an  encouraging  nod, 
"  how's  the  heart  ?  " 

She  sat  silent  a  moment,  her  hands  locked,  staring 
at  the  floor. 

"  I  wish  I  knew !  "  she  said  slowly. 

"Marriage?" 

"No!" 

"  Sure  of  the  man?"  he  said  abruptly. 

"  That's  it;  I'm  not  sure  of  him!  " 

"And  yourself?" 

She  tried  conscientiously  to  see  herself. 

"  Even  of  that  —  I  don't  know." 

"Pretty  hard  hit,  eh?" 

She  nodded. 

"  Go  slow !     Be  sure !  " 

"  I'm  going  to,  Blainey !  " 

"  What  else  ?     Marriage  ?  " 

She  made  a  gesture  of  irritation. 

"  No ;  that's  not  for  me !  " 

"  You're  wrong,  kid,"  he  said  energetically.  "  You 
don't  know  the  game !  " 

"What!  You  advise  me  to  marry?"  she  ex- 
claimed, in  astonishment. 


THE  SALAMANDER  469 

"You?  Every  time!"  he  said,  straightening  up. 
"  However,  we'll  discuss  that  later ! "  He  looked  at 
her  shrewdly  and  said  abruptly :  "  How  about  Sas- 
soon?" 

A  fantastic  idea  came  into  her  head  —  to  try  to 
what  extent  his  advice  could  be  disinterested. 

"  Sassoon's  the  point,"  she  said  quietly.  "  What 
do  you  think  he  offered  me  this  very  morning?  " 

She  detailed  the  terms,  the  proffered  marriage  and 
the  contract,  while  Blainey,  craning  forward,  listened 
with  intense  curiosity.  When  she  had  finished,  he 
rose  abruptly,  eased  the  grip  of  his  collar  and  moved 
heavily  to  the  window.  Then  he  made  her  repeat  all 
that  she  had  said,  word  for  word. 

"You're  giving  me  a  straight  story?" 

"Honest  to  God!" 

He  gave  vent  to  a  long  whistle,  drumming  on  the 
desk. 

"  Well,  kid,"  he  said  at  last,  with  an  effort,  "  that's 
a  pretty  big  proposition !  "  He  shook  his  head  sol- 
emnly. "  I  don't  see  how  you  can  turn  it  down !  " 

"  Well,  Blainey,  that's  just  what  I've  done !  "  she 
said  evenly. 

"Think  it  over!  Better  think  it  over  carefully!" 
he  advised  anxiously.  "  Ten  years  from  now  you 
may  get  a  different  squint  at  life,  and  regret  it!  " 

She  laughed.  She  had  an  idea  that  what  they  were 
discussing  was  curiously  immoral;  but,  strange  as  it 
was,  she  had  a  feeling  that  he  was  quite  unselfish,  and 
was  grateful  to  him  for  it.  In  fact  she  felt  nearer  to 
him  than  ever  before. 


470  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  No,  no,  Blainey,"  she  said  quickly.  "  Not  for 
me !  I'm  not  thirty-two  —  I'm  twenty-two ;  and, 
thank  heaven,  I  can  be  a  little  fool !  " 

He  resumed  his  seat,  unconvinced,  half  inclined  to 
argue.  All  at  once  he  looked  up,  with  a  snap  in  his 
gray  eyes,  at  the  girl  who  was  watching  him,  amused. 

"  Speaking  of  marriage,  why  don't  you  marry 
me?" 

She  rose  to  her  feet  in  amazement. 

"  Surprised  ?  "  he  asked,  grinning. 

"Bowled  over!" 

"  Rather  expected  another  proposition  ?  "  he  said 
bluntly. 

"  Yes,  I  did !  Good  heavens !  Blainey,  why  do 
you  want  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"For  about  six  hundred  and  fifty-two  reasons!" 
he  said  solemnly.  "  First,  because  I'm  fond  of  you. 
Second,  because  I'm  lonely,  kid!  Third,  because  I'd 
like  to  work  for  you,  make  something  big  out  of  you, 
give  you  a  career  that  would  be  a  career.  The  rest 
don't  count!  You  see,  kid,  I  believe  in  you,  and  the 
contract  I'm  offering  you,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden 
chuckling  return  to  playfulness,  "  is  the  only  contract 
I  know  that's  worth  a  damn  between  manager  and 
star.  Of  course,  you've  got  to  work !  " 

"  Blainey,  how  much  talent  have  I  ?  "  she  asked  pas- 
sionately. "  No  compliments !  Give  me  the  truth ! 
It  may  mean  a  lot ! " 

"I  don't  know!" 

"  And  yet  — " 

"  Talent  be  damned !  "  he  said  royally,  as  he  said  a 
dozen  times  a  day.  "  Art  be  damned !  It  ain't  tal- 


THE  SALAMANDER  471 

cnt,  it's  personality  that  counts  —  personality  and  ad- 
vertising. Personality,  kid,  is  the  reason  we  build  the 
stage  three  feet  above  the  orchestra,  to  keep  the  bald 
heads  from  coming  over.  Do  you  think  I'm  in  this 
God-forsaken  business  thirty-four  years,  and  don't 
know  the  tricks  ?  You'll  be  talking  art  to  me  next !  " 

"And  I  have  personality?"  she  said  doubtfully. 

He  smiled  hugely. 

"Would  you  be  sitting  here  if  you  hadn't?" 

"  And  you  want  to  marry  me,  after  all  you  know 
about  me? "  she  asked  solemnly.  It  was  the  one  thing 
she  did  not  like.  Why  was  it  impossible  for  her  to 
go  her  way,  free  and  irresponsible,  as  men  went? 
Why  was  it  that  all  sought  this  absolute  control  over 
her  liberty?  And  yet,  she  was  genuinely  touched  that 
Blainey,  believing  what  he  must,  should  have  made  the 
offer. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  My  old  dad  ran  a  milk-wagon  over  in  Brooklyn," 
he  said.  "  I've  pulled  myself  up  by  my  boot-straps, 
and  pretty  much  of  everything  has  stuck  to  them  on 
the  way.  I  know  what  life  is,  kid.  I  stopped  judg- 
ing long  ago !  Leave  that  to  a  bunch  of  snobs  in  Fifth 
Avenue  churches.  Whatever  you've  done,  you'd  look 
like  a  white  spot  against  me! " 

"Blainey,  I'll  tell  you  something!"  she  said  sud- 
denly. "  You've  got  me  wrong !  I'm  as  straight  as 
they  make  'em !  " 

"  Don't  lie,  kid !     It  ain't  necessary." 

"  Look  at  me !  It's  God's  truth !  "  she  exclaimed 
vehemently. 


472  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Honest  ?  "  he  said,  opening  his  eyes. 

"Honest!" 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!" 

"  Blainey,  you're  an  awfully  good  sort!"  she  said 
genuinely. 

"  Damned  few  would  agree  with  you ! "  he  said 
grimly. 

"  You've  always  been  with  me !     Why  ?  " 

"'Cause  I'm  a  sentimental  nature!"  he  said,  grin- 
ning. "Well,  kid,  how  about  it?" 

"  Well,  Blainey,  it  may  be  yes !  I  shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised!" 

He  started  up  eagerly,  with  a  look  that  somehow 
spoiled  it  all.  She  retreated  instinctively,  and  per- 
ceiving it,  he  was  clever  enough  to  retain  his  seat,  say- 
ing: 

"  When  will  you  know  ?  " 

"To-night!" 

"  Telephone  me  here  or  at  the  hotel.  Now,  one 
thing  more.  This  marriage  means  freedom  to  each 
—  no  spying  and  no  interfering !  It's  a  sentimental 
business  contract  for  life.  Savvy?" 

She  nodded. 

"  That's  the  best  way !  " 

"You're  free  — I'm  free!" 

She  nodded  again,  giving  him  her  hand. 

"  Now  I  must  go,"  she  said  hastily,  with  a  glance 
at  the  clock.  She  went  to  the  door,  while  he  watched 
her  without  a  word.  Suddenly  she  turned.  "  If  I 
decide,  I  want  it  over  to-night!  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 


THE  SALAMANDER  473 

He  nodded  seriously.  She  smiled  and  went  lightly 
out. 

When  she  reached  her  room  again  she  received  a 
shock.  Snyder  informed  her  that  Lindaberry  had 
called  twice,  once  while  they  were  at  luncheon,  and 
again  at  three.  Dodo  was  in  a  panic  at  the  news,  ex- 
pected though  it  was.  Josephus  had  informed  her  of 
Nebbins'  insistent  queries.  All  that  she  had  planned 
dramatically,  which  now  she  wished  to  avoid,  was  ris- 
ing up  to  confound  her.  She  turned  breathlessly  on 
Snyder. 

"  You  saw  Mr.  Lindaberry  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  He  was  here?     Long?  " 

"  About  an  hour !  " 

"Then  you  talked  to  him?"  she  persisted,  sud- 
denly suspicious. 

"  So-so,"  said  Snyder  evasively. 

"What  did  you  talk  about?  What  did  you  say? 
What  did  you  tell  him  about  me  ?  You  didn't  discuss 
—  did  he  leave  a  message?" 

"  No,  he  left  no  message !  "  said  Snyder  obstinately. 

"  When  is  he  coming  back  ?     You  know !  " 

"No,  I  don't  know!" 

"Snyder!" 

"  I  don't  know !  "  she  repeated,  shrugging  her  shoul- 
ders and  escaping  into  the  other  room,  leaving  Dodo 
in  a  torment  of  suspense,  half  inclined  to  flight. 

She  could  explain  whatever  she  intended  doing  to 
Blainey,  to  Massingale  even,  but  not  to  Lindaberry. 
The  thing  was  unthinkable.  And  she  was  afraid  of 


474  THE  SALAMANDER 

his  coming,  for  she  was  afraid  to  destroy  the  illusion, 
fragile  and  beautiful,  which  she  had  built  of  herself 
in  his  soul.  To  undeceive  him,  to  let  him  see  her  as 
she  believed  she  really  was,  brought  her  pain  that  she 
could  not  endure.  And  at  that  moment,  as  the  town 
clock  was  methodically  beating  out  the  hour  of  five, 
she  stopped  abruptly,  suddenly  recalled  to  Massingale 
by  the  sound  of  his  step  on  the  stairs,  torn  between 
hope  and  fear,  but  inwardly  steeling  herself  against 
the  shock  of  disillusionment  which  she  was  certain 
awaited  her  with  the  opening  of  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

WHEN  a  man  has  taken  a  step  across  those  lim- 
its which  society  imposes  on  his  conduct,  he 
immediately  begins,  with  a  certain  anxiety,  to  seek  for 
the  visible  results  in  those  events,  ordinary  or  ex- 
traordinary, which  affect  his  prosperity.  From  the 
time  of  Massingale's  meeting  with  Dodo,  everything 
had  succeeded  with  him.  He  had  had  a  period  of  un- 
usual success  in  the  stock  market.  Property  which 
he  had  accepted  in  lieu  of  a  debt  had  unexpectedly 
proved  necessary  to  the  approaches  of  a  new  bridge 
and  had  returned  him  ten  times  its  value.  His  ken- 
nel had  swept  everything  before  it  in  the  Dog  Show, 
and  in  the  daily  sessions  at  the  card  table  his  run  of 
luck  had  continued  with  extraordinary  persistence. 
Finally,  the  newspapers,  lately,  had  given  him  columns 
of  publicity.  Certain  criticisms  which  he  had  passed 
on  the  haphazard  conduct  of  justice  had  been  taken 
up  and  had  set  in  movement  great  machines  of  inves- 
tigation, which  threatened  an  overturn  at  the  coming 
municipal  elections.  As  a  consequence,  he  had  re- 
ceived proffers  of  advancement,  and  a  political  career 
seemed  within  his  reach. 

Whatever  vague  rumblings  of  conscience  may  have 
stirred  within  him,  they  were,  in  a  measure,  stilled  by 
these  evidences  of  the  good  favor  in  which  he  stood 

475 


476  THE  SALAMANDER 

with  Providence  since  Dodo's  introduction  into  his 
life.  He  was  resolved  to  see  in  her  the  explanation 
of  all  that  was  favorable,  and  he  repeated,  in  daily 
self- justification,  that  if  she  brought  him  this  good 
luck,  there  could  be  no  great  harm,  else  a  moral 
Heaven  certainly  would  not  continue  to  shower  him 
with  blessings.  He  did  not  express  the  feeling  in  so 
many  words,  but  it  existed,  half  avowed,  as  often, 
when  tendered  a  match,  he  would  say  to  himself : 

"If  it  remains  lighted  until  it  reaches  me,  it  is  a  fa- 
vorable sign !  " 

The  first  disagreeable  shock  had  come  in  the  form 
of  a  message  from  Harrigan  Blood  saying  that  he 
would  oppose  any  attempt  to  raise  Massingale  to  the 
Court  of  General  Sessions.  The  message  was  deliv- 
ered by  a  mutual  friend  with  intimations  that,  on  ac- 
count of  certain  sides  of  his  personal  life,  it  would  be 
better  not  to  lay  himself  open  to  the  attack  of  a. vin- 
dictive antagonist.  The  truth  was  that  Harrigan 
Blood,  since  the  day  when  Dodo  had  been  so  unfor- 
tunately inspired  as  to  bring  them  together,  had  con- 
ceived the  idea  that  the  luncheon  had  been  arranged 
with  the  express  purpose  of  making  him  ridiculous, 
and  that  Massingale  had  been  a  party  to  the  plot. 
From  the  first  he  had  felt  the  humiliation  of  the 
role  he  had  been  forced  to  play  with  Dodo.  The 
quarrel  with  Sassoon  had  been  costly;  his  sense  of 
pride  had  been  cruelly  tried;  on  top  of  which  the 
thought  that  she  had  paraded  him  for  the  delectation 
of  a  favored  rival  was  unbearable  to  his  sensitive  vain 
nature.  He  took  his  revenge  thus,  from  a  need  of 


THE  SALAMANDER  477 

feeling  that  at  the  end  the  ridicule  would  not  rest  on 
his  side.  Massingale  knew  the  man  too  well  to  have 
any  doubts  as  to  his  yielding.  If  the  political  cam- 
paign were  to  be  entered,  he  saw  now  that  it  would 
mean  a  distressing  facing  of  every  indignity.  It  was 
the  threat,  perhaps,  more  than  the  deprivation,  that 
annoyed  him;  for  at  the  bottom  he  had  now  come  to 
a  full  realization  of  the  utter  disorganization  which 
the  pursuit  of  Dodo  must  inevitably  bring  him. 

The  morality  of  a  man  of  the  world  after  forty  is 
largely  a  question  of  what  is,  and  what  is  not,  done. 
Massingale,  without  being  aware  of  it,  possessed  this 
code  to  an  unusual  degree.  Petty  political  grafting 
was  something  of  which  he  would  have  been  simply 
incapable,  from  a  pride  of  caste.  There  were  certain 
vices  that  were  associated  with  a  lower  order  of  hu- 
man beings.  Courage,  in  such  surroundings,  was  as 
requisite  to  a  gentleman  as  recklessness  before  the 
consequences  of  a  five-foot  leap  in  the  hunting-field. 
So,  with  Dore,  his  moral  code  of  good  manners 
(which  might  be  expressed  as  eligibility  to  club  mem- 
bership) could  not  permit  what,  to  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  must  appear  as  a  deliberate  seduction.  De- 
spite the  depths  of  infatuation  into  which  he  had 
plunged,  the  genuine  outcry  of  his  whole  nature,  the 
intense  and  ceaseless  longing  with  which  he  was  con- 
sumed, he  never  for  a  moment  contemplated  anything 
but  the  permissible:  divorce  and  remarriage. 

This  decisive  step  he  had  contemplated  now  for 
more  than  two  months,  approaching  and  retreating. 
At  times  he  had  been  on  the  point  of  breaking  in 


478  THE  SALAMANDER 

tempestuously  on  his  wife  and  delivering  an  ulti- 
matum, and  the  next  day  he  had  thanked  heaven  for 
the  accident  that  had  prevented  a  crisis.  He  was 
afraid  of  Dodo.  Never  for  a  moment  had  he  placed 
the  slightest  faith  in  her  romantic  dramatization  of  a 
lawless  elopement.  Beyond  that,  a  future  in  which  she 
should  join  him  as  his  wife  was  illegible  to  his  eyes. 
He  was  too  profoundly  sensible  of  the  utter  change 
she  had  effected  in  his  life  not  to  fear  where  he  might 
follow.  He  found  that  she  consumed  his  day;  that 
only  the  moments  spent  with  her  were  vital.  His 
old  associations  bored  him. 

His  club  friends  of  his  age  seemed  hopelessly  and 
incomprehendingly  old.  In  their  presence  he  felt  un- 
accountably young,  eager  for  youth.  The  evenings 
when  Dodo  punished  him  by  departing  with  mysterious 
others  were  intolerably  long  and  heavy.  And  then  he 
suffered!  He  came  to  know  all  the  torments  of  jeal- 
ousy, hatred  and  submission  violently  reacting. 

A  little  thing  had  perhaps  more  influence  on  his  de- 
cision at  this  moment  than  anything  else  —  the  ring 
which  Lindaberry  had  given  Dodo,  and  of  which  she 
would  furnish  no  explanation.  This  ring  haunted 
him,  terrified  him.  He  was  a  keen  enough  observer 
to  perceive  instinctively  its  threat  —  that  back  of  it 
was  a  deep  import,  not  a  mere  passing  entanglement  of 
a  week.  Something  else  there  was  in  her  life,  of 
major  importance,  he  felt,  strong  enough  to  threaten 
him.  Finally,  on  the  night  he  had  taken  Dodo  in  his 
car  after  her  meeting  with  Nebbins,  this  feeling  of 
jealousy  and  alarm  had  become  so  intensified  that  he 


THE  SALAMANDER  479 

had  suddenly  flung  the  future  to  the  winds,  and  de- 
termined to  be  rid  of  the  pain,  the  frenzy  and  the 
miserable  longing  which  his  resistance  brought  him  in 
daily  torture. 

When  he  returned  to  his  home,  he  learned  from  the 
footman  at  the  door  that  Mrs.  Massingale  had  en- 
tered half  an  hour  before.  He  went  directly  to  her 
rooms,  giving  himself  no  time  for  hesitation  or  re- 
flection. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  cried  a  startled  voice  at  his  knock. 

"  It's  I;  may  I  come  in?  " 

"  But  I'm  not  dressed !     Is  it  serious?  " 

"  Yes !     Put  on  a  dressing-gown !  " 

A  moment  later  he  entered.  His  wife,  a  frail,  neu- 
rasthenic, thinly  pretty  woman  of  forty,  was  standing 
with  a  peignoir  hastily  clutched  about  her,  a  towel  in 
hand,  hastily  rubbing  off  the  cream  with  which  her 
maid  had  been  industriously  massaging  her  face.  On 
the  dressing-table  was  a  heap  of  hair  in  disordered 
braids.  The  mellow  shades  on  the  electric  candles 
flung  frightened  shadows  on  the  sharp  oval  face  and 
the  penciled  eyebrows,  that  took  flight  above  the  nerv- 
ous eyes,  now  white  with  an  exaggerated  alarm. 

"  Send  " —  he  did  not  even  know  the  name  of  his 
wife's  maid  — "  send  her  away !  " 

"  Lucille,  laisses-moi;  je  vous  sonnerai  plus  tard! " 
Mrs.  Massingale  said  directly,  her  eyes  on  her  hus- 
band's face.  She  went  to  the  door,  closing  it  and  came 
swiftly  back. 

"  Harold,  what  is  it  ? "  she  cried  breathlessly. 
"  Are  we  ruined?  " 


480  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  No ! "  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  irony  in  his  voice. 
"  No ;  it  is  not  money  matters !  " 

She  had  seen  the  specter  of  bankruptcy  before  her 
eyes  at  his  incomprehensible  entrance.  She  shud- 
dered and  regained  her  self-control  with  a  sigh,  clos- 
ing her  wrapper  more  tightly  over  the  disarray  at  her 
breast,  as  if  suddenly  aware  of  impropriety  in  the 
presence  of  this  man  who  had  entered  her  rooms 
after  years. 

"  Sit  down!  "  he  said,  straddling  a  chair  and  resting 
his  arms  on  the  back.  "  Clara,  I  am  very  —  I  am  ex- 
ceedingly unhappy ! " 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  more  than  from  the  au- 
thority in  his  manner,  her  alarm  flashed  up  anew.  She 
seated  herself  hesitatingly,  scenting  instinctively  the 
approach  of  some  formless  danger.  For  a  second  she 
had  a  grotesque  thought,  caused  by  the  sudden  irrup- 
tion on  her  cherished  privacy,  that  he  was  going  to 
ask  her  to  surrender  her  own  apartment  and  return  to 
his. 

"  Well,  well!  What  is  it?  "  she  asked,  finally  pre- 
pared to  resist  such  brutality. 

"  Clara,  I  want  my  liberty !  " 

She  relaxed  a  little.  His  liberty?  She  had  never 
for  a  moment  opposed  that! 

"This  life  I  am  leading  is  a  ghastly  mockery!  I 
want  it  to  end !  I  want  to  be  able  to  lead  my  own  life. 
I  want  a  divorce !  " 

She  rose  in  her  seat,  stretched  out  her  hand  and 
stammered : 

"What?" 


THE  SALAMANDER  481 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  am  resolved  to  di- 
vorce ! " 

"Divorce!" 

All  at  once  she  fell  back,  limp  and  swooning,  her 
head  fallen  forward  on  her  breast.  He  rose,  searched 
among  the  bottles,  found  smelling-salts,  and  methodic- 
ally, not  quite  convinced,  held  them  to  her  nostrils. 
Then,  when  she  started,  he  placed  the  bottle  on  her  lap 
and  resumed  his  seat 

Her  first  emotion,  on  returning  from  the  dizziness 
which  had  not  been  altogether  assumed,  was  one  of 
profound  astonishment.  After  almost  twenty  years 
of  married  life,  when  she  felt  the  completest  security, 
when  her  life  had  run  smoothest  along  the  roads  she 
herself  had  directed,  all  at  once  everything  was  threat- 
ened, without  her  being  able  to  perceive  at  what  point 
she  had  committed  an  error. 

"  You  said  —  divorce  ?  "  she  said  weakly,  staring 
at  him. 

'  Yes !  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  make  no  opposi- 
tion, if  I  make  whatever  provision  you  desire  for 
yourself." 

Before  the  detail  of  his  manner  she  could  no  longer 
cherish  any  doubt.  She  became  suddenly  the  woman 
of  astuteness  and  cunning  that  she  really  was,  gather- 
ing every  energy  to  ward  off  the  blow. 

''  You  are  not  serious !  It  is  impossible  that  you 
can  be  serious ! "  she  began.  She  rose  quickly,  and 
gliding  to  the  door,  assured  herself  that  Lucille  was 
not  eavesdropping. 

"  I  never  was  more  serious  in  my  life ! " 


482  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  Then  let  me  say  right  here  —  and  I  will  never 
change,"  she  said,  returning  defiantly, —  "  I  am  Mrs. 
Massingale.  That  is  my  name ;  that  is  my  position  in 
the  world.  I  will  never  surrender  it.  I  will  never, 
never  consent  to  a  divorce,  on  any  grounds  whatso- 
ever!" 

"  Let  us  discuss ! "  he  said  quietly,  resolved  to  push 
the  matter  no  further  than  the  statement  of  intention, 
and,  above  all,  to  preserve  his  self-respect. 

"  Discuss?  There  is  nothing  to  discuss !  "  she  cried, 
with  rising  anger.  "  What  have  you  to  reproach  me 
with?  I  have  been  a  faithful  wife  all  my  married 
life.  I  have  never  made  you  ridiculous ;  I  have  never 
dishonored  your  name!  Of  how  many  women  can 
you  say  the  same  in  our  world?  I  have  run  your 
house  for  you,  and  I  have  let  you  go  your  way,  lead 
your  life,  do  as  you  pleased,  without  complaint !  And 
now,  I  am  the  one  to  be  sacrificed  ?  Never !  You  may 
have  your  idea  of  marriage.  I  have  mine!  I  regard 
it  as  a  holy  sacrament  that  nothing  can  divide  but 
death!" 

"  Clara,  I  warn  you,"  he  said  quietly,  "  that  the  mat- 
ter is  too  serious  for  scenes.  I  am  fully  resolved !  " 

"  So  am  I !  " 

"May  I  ask  you  what  our  marriage  has  been?" 
he  said,  growing  angry  in  spite  of  himself.  "  Yes,  I 
believe  in  all  you  say,  when  marriage  is  a  marriage! 
But  when  it  is  simply  a  convenient  legal  phrase  to  yoke 
together  two  human  beings  who  have  not  the  slightest 
interest  in  common  in  the  world  — " 

"What?" 


THE  SALAMANDER  483 

"  My  dear  Clara,"  he  said  icily,  "  let  me  say  a  few 
plain  words  to  you!  We  have  lived  twenty  years  to- 
gether as  you  have  wished  it  and  as  I  have  agreed. 
This  house  might  be  a  hotel,  and  we  passing  guests, 
for  all  the  marriage  there  has  been  to  it!  Let's  go 
back !  You  married  me  for  money  and  position !  " 

"  Harold !     I  — " 

"  Don't  lie !  "  he  said,  forced  at  last  into  the  inevi- 
table brutality  of  matrimonial  discussion.  "  You 
never  loved  me !  You  loved  what  I  had  to  give  you ! 
Come,  you're  not  going  to  pretend,  now,  that  there  ever 
was  a  question  of  love  in  it?  But  then  I  thought  so! 
You  were  very  clever!  More,  you  even  made  me  be- 
lieve—  you,  a  young  girl  —  that  you  loved  me  pas- 
sionately, that  you  were  capable  of  passion !  You  suc- 
ceeded, as  you  intended,  in  carrying  me  off  my  feet !  " 

She  looked  at  him,  incapable  of  retort,  overwhelmed 
with  shame.  She  had  never  believed,  in  all  these 
years,  that  he  had  comprehended  this. 

"  Afterward  I  discovered  the  truth !  "  he  continued. 
"  I  found  I  had  united  myself  fatuously  with  a  per- 
fectly cold  woman,  to  whom  I  was  even  repulsive ! " 

"Harold!" 

"Physically  speaking!"  he  added.  "Who  was 
cunningly  intent  on  pushing  me  out  of  the  way,  and 
building  up  a  hollow,  conventionally  brilliant,  social  life 
of  her  own.  I  ended  by  shrugging  my  shoulders  and 
taking  what  I  could  out  of  the  world  in  an  amused, 
dilettante  way.  Every  word  I  say  is  true !  And  now, 
when  at  forty-five  I  have  the  chance  to  live  the  life  you 
denied  me,  you  would  stop  me  by  any  such  mum- 


484  THE  SALAMANDER 

mery  as  the  sacredness  of  this  marriage!  What? 
You  would  prevent  me  now  when  I  come  to  you  gently, 
quietly,  and  say  to  you :  '  I  love,  I  want  to  live,  I  want 
to  be  free  from  a  bond  that  is  nothing  to  you,  to  know 
what  is  real ' —  when  I  ask  you  to  give  me  a  chance  to 
find  in  another  what  you  scorn  to  give! " 

"But  you  speak  only  of  the  physical!"  she  cried, 
aghast. 

"  No ;  I  speak  of  the  difference  between  the  living 
and  the  dead!  "  he  cried  passionately.  "  I  speak  of  a 
woman  who,  when  she  is  in  your  arms,  clings  to  you 
and  cries  out  words  of  love,  whose  eyes  shine  with 
your  coming,  who  listens  for  your  step,  who  doesn't 
hide  behind  prudery,  but  adores  you  as  a  living,  throb- 
bing human  being,  who  is  not  ashamed  of  her  love,  who 
is  natural,  whose  lips  have  kisses  and  whose  arms  seize 
you  to  her,  who  has  youth,  fire,  life!  " 

"  But  you  are  mad,  infatuated !  You  don't  know 
what  you  are  saying!"  she  cried,  recoiling  in  terror. 
"  But  then,  you  wish  to  marry  again !  " 

"  Again  ?     No !     I  want  a  real  marriage !  "  he  cried. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  he  brought  himself 
back  to  calm,  and  she  rapidly  ran  over  in  her  mind  the 
possible  woman  in  her  own  set  who  might  have  thus 
awakened  him. 

"  Clara,  do  not  let  us  lose  our  sense  of  dignity,"  he 
said  solemnly.  "  I  do  not  expect  you  to  answer  to- 
night." 

"  I  will  never  consent !  "  she  cried,  flaring  up. 

"  I  don't  expect  your  answer  to-night,"  he  repeated 
slowly.  "  I  shall  return  here  to-morrow  afternoon  at 


THE  SALAMANDER  485 

four.  By  that  time  you  will  have  reflected;  you  will 
perceive  the  monstrous  iniquity  of  keeping  me  from  a 
happiness  that  is  perfectly  indifferent  to  you.  More- 
over, I  will  make  any  settlement  on  you  that  you  indi- 
cate. You  will  probably  realize  by  that  time  that  noth- 
ing in  your  mode  of  living  need  be  changed ;  this  house 
shall  be  yours ;  all  that  is  sacrificed  is  a  little  vanity,  the 
public  recognition  of  a  loss  that  has  never  meant  any- 
thing to  you !  " 

"  Wait !  "  she  said,  with  a  rapid  calculation.  "  Do 
I  know  the  woman?  Is  it  one  of  my  friends?  " 

"  It  is  not !  It  is  some  one,  a  young  girl,  from  an 
entirely  different  world,"  he  replied,  and  went  out. 

She  remained  embattled,  and  yet  with  the  hovering 
sense  of  defeat,  striving  to  explain  the  catastrophe. 

"  Ah,  if  I  had  had  a  child  this  never  could  have  hap- 
pened !  "  she  cried  all  at  once,  striking  her  forehead. 

Despite  his  assurance,  the  next  day,  after  a  night  of 
horror,  she  called  up  a  dozen  friends,  seeking  fruit- 
lessly to  learn  of  the  woman.  She  consulted  three  of 
her  most  particular  confidantes  as  to  what  course  she 
should  adopt.  All  three  agreed  on  absolute  resistance. 
The  first  said  to  her: 

"  My  dear,  treat  him  as  a  friend.  Be  sympathetic ! 
Find  out  who  she  is.  Point  out  to  him  that  she  is  in- 
triguing for  his  money.  Act,  not  as  an  enemy,  but  as 
an  adviser!  " 

The  second  added: 

"  Pretend  to  consider  the  proposition ;  then  ask  him 
for  a  year's  delay,  for  his  sake  and  for  yours,  to  be 
sure  that  it  is  not  a  passing  infatuation.  In  a  year,  es- 


486  THE  SALAMANDER 

pecially  if  there  is  no  opposition,  great  changes  can 
take  place !  " 

The  third  agreed  with  the  others,  with  this  addi- 
tion: 

"  In  a  year  he  will  either  grow  tired  of  her,  or  she 
will  have  become  his  mistress,  and  he  may  become 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  the  arrangement.  Whatever 
you  do,  delay !  " 

At  four  o'clock,  as  the  last  adviser  was  hurrying 
out,  Massingale  entered.  She  was  instantly  struck 
with  the  intensity  of  the  emotion  that  consumed  him, 
which  laid  the  telltale  shadows  of  its  fatigue  in  the  hol- 
lows about  his  eyes  and  the  stern  drawn  lines  of  his 
mouth. 

"  Before  we  go  any  further,"  she  said  carefully, 
"  since  I  am  to  be  sacrificed,  may  I  at  least  ask  you  a 
few  questions  ?  " 

"  That  is  fair ! "  he  said,  deceived  by  her  tone  into 
a  bounding  hope  that  she  would  consent. 

"  Are  you  perfectly  sure  of  this  young  girl, 
Harold?" 

"Absolutely!" 

"Who  is  she?" 

He  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  She  is  twenty-two ;  she  is  from  the  Middle  West ; 
she  has  been  a  little  on  the  stage." 

"  And  you  are  sure  that  she  is  disinterested  ?  " 

"Absolutely!" 

"  You  are  at  the  age  when  men  are  victims  of  such 
infatuations !  "  she  said,  looking  down.  "  Perhaps  I 
myself  have  been  to  blame!  If  you  will  wait  a  year, 


THE  SALAMANDER  487 

be  sure,  positively  sure  " —  she  stopped,  blushed  red, 
and  said  rapidly  — "  I  will  try  to  be  to  you,  Harold, 
all  that  you  want." 

Even  in  the  tensity  of  the  moment,  the  incongruity 
of  this  unexpected  solution  struck  him  as  so  sublimely 
ludicrous  that  he  laughed  aloud.  Also  he  perceived 
her  maneuver,  at  once  undeceived.  She  drew  herself 
up,  stung  to  the  soul,  prey  to  an  anger  that  swept  aside 
all  caution. 

"  Well,  no !  I  will  never  consent !  You  shall  never 
have  a  divorce  so  long  as  I  can  stop  it !  Go,  live  with 
your  mistress." 

"  She  is  not  my  mistress ! "  he  said,  white  with 
anger. 

"  A  girl  on  the  stage !  You  are  ridiculous !  You 
will  make  yourself  the  laughing-stock  of  New  York, 
my  dear  fellow,  with  your  little  girl !  And  you  think 
she  loves  you  ?  Fool !  don't  you  know  what  her  game 
is?" 

"  Don't  judge  all  women  by  yourself,  Clara  Bayne !  " 
he  said  between  his  teeth,  giving  her  her  girlhood 
name.  But  instantly,  digging  his  nails  in  his  hands, 
he  said  in  a  different  tone :  "  I  beg  your  pardon ! 
I  am  very  irritated,  in  a  very  nervous  state.  I  don't 
want  to  lose  control  of  myself!  Clara,  you  are  too 
generous,  too  honest  a  woman,  deliberately  to  force 
her  to  be  my  mistress !  " 

"I  force  her?"  she  cried  furiously.  "If  she  has 
taken  the  love  of  a  married  man,  she  is  that  already! 
Let  her  go  on !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  this  ?  "  he  said  sternly. 


488  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I  certainly  do !  " 

"  You  will  not  give  the  woman  I  love  and  respect 
the  right  to  be  my  wife  —  to  love  me  honestly  before 
the  world  ?  Do  you  mean  this  ?  " 

"  I  am  your  wife,  and  you  shall  never  take  that  from 
me!" 

''  You  have  never  been  my  wife!  "  he  cried,  beside 
himself.  "  You,  a  pure  girl,  deliberately  set  about  to 
win  me,  as  a  cocote  does!  Wife?  You  have  taken 
my  money  to  pay  for  your  pleasures  and  your  luxuries, 
and  you  have  not  even  been  my  mistress!  You  a 
moral  woman ! " 

"  How  dare  you  ?  "  she  cried,  unrecognizable  in  her 
rage. 

"  A  last  time.  Will  you  permit  me  to  get  a  di- 
vorce ?  " 

"  No ! "  She  uttered  it  as  a  shriek,  fallen  back 
against  the  wall. 

"Then,  madam,  I  will  force  you  to  do  it!"  he  ex- 
claimed, slamming  his  fist  on  a  little  table  with  such 
violence  that  it  sent  a  shower  of  books  clattering  to  the 
floor. 

He  left  her  clinging  to  the  wall,  choking  with  rage, 
descended  to  his  car,  and  gave  Dodo's  address.  The 
interview  had  left  him  in  just  that  state  of  frenzy  he 
needed  to  do  the  thing  he  would  have  hesitated  long  to 
do  in  his  day  of  calm.  The  life  that  he  had  claimed 
from  his  wife  rose  up  doubly  precious  to  him  for  the 
proclaiming.  He  would  cut  off  his  wife  without  a 
cent ;  he  would  force  her  to  sue  him  for  abandonment, 
if  not  from  shame,  from  positive  necessity.  Anyhow, 


THE  SALAMANDER  489 

the  die  was  cast!  He  had  cut  away  from  all  the  old 
life!  He  would  go  with  Dodo  to-night,  racing  into 
the  new,  as  she  had  wished.  After  a  few  months,  a 
year,  abroad,  traveling  in  hidden  countries,  when  his 
wife  had  come  to  her  senses  and  procured  a  divorce,  he 
would  marry  Dodo.  They  would  not  come  back  to 
New  York,  but  the  world  was  wide.  Marriage  ex- 
alted everything.  He  would  not  be  the  first  so  to  do. 
Abroad,  in  Paris,  London,  Rome,  such  romances  were 
understood.  He  jumped  out  and  ran  hastily  up  the 
stairs,  knocked,  and  came  tempestuously  into  the 
room. 

He  saw  her  with  hands  clasped  over  her  breast, 
standing  tremulously  sweet,  swaying  with  fear  of  his 
coming.  He  held  but  his  arms,  caught  her  violently 
to  him,  buried  his  head  in  the  cool  regions  of  her  neck, 
caressed  by  the  fragrant  youth  of  her  hair,  uttering 
but  one  word : 

"Come!" 

She  heard  it,  rather  frightened,  alarmed,  too,  at  the 
personal  disorder  that  shook  him  like  a  leaf,  alarmed 
at  the  man  who  had  at  last  come  to  where  she  had 
wished  him.  She  said  to  herself,  incredulously,  that 
she  was  happy  —  wildly,  deliriously  happy ;  and  she  re- 
mained quiet,  passing  her  hands  soothingly  over  his 
bent  head,  alert,  as  if  listening  for  some  sound  in  the 
air. 

"  You  will  come  ?  "  he  said  suddenly,  holding  her 
from  him. 

"  Yes !  "  she  said  in  a  whisper. 

"  Now  —  to-night  —  far  off  —  with  me  ?  " 


490  THE  SALAMANDER 

"Yes!  How  has  it  happened?"  she  said  breath- 
lessly. "  Why  now  ?  Why  are  you  willing,  all  at 
once?  " 

"  Because  I  no  longer  care  for  anything  else  but 
you!"  he  cried — "friends,  career,  reputation.  Be- 
cause I  can't  live  without  you,  Dodo !  Because  noth- 
ing else  in  life  is  life  but  you!  Because  I've  come  to 
hate  it  all  —  the  rest !  Dodo,  I  love  you !  I  can't  be 
without  you !  " 

"  At  last !  "  she  said  mechanically,  staring  at  him. 

She  did  not  draw  away,  though  his  lips  sought  hers. 
She  longed  for  that  oblivion  which  had  first  come  to 
her  in  his  arms,  that  quieting  of  the  senses  that  drew 
the  day  from  before  her  eyes  and  closed  her  ears  to 
all  but  the  faintest,  far-off  murmurings.  She  did  not 
resist,  but  eagerly  awaited  this  masculine  mastery  that 
once  had  awakened  all  the  slumbering  passionate  fires 
within  her.  She  wanted  to  forget  again,  to  be  over- 
whelmed, balanced  in  his  arms,  a  weak  contented 
thing,  leaping  hungrily  to  his  contact,  delirious  and  on 
fire.  But  no  such  oblivion  arrived.  She  felt  herself 
poignantly  awake,  curiously,  critically  conscious  of  a 
hundred  questions  against  her  brain,  wondering  at 
him,  at  his  frenzy —  feeling  none  herself,  nor  knowing 
why. 

All  at  once  from  the  other  room  the  voice  of  Snyder 
startled  them,  singing  raucously : 

"  Who  are  you  with  to-night,  to-night  ? 
Oh,  who  are  you  with  to-night? 
Will  you  tell  your  wife  in  the  morning 
Who  you  are  with  to-night  ?  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  491 

He  straightened  up  suddenly,  recollecting  himself. 

"  Ah,  no !  Don't  go !  "  she  cried,  as  she  had  on  that 
first  night  when  they  had  been  swept  together.  He 
seemed  so  strange  to  her  now!  She  wanted  to  have 
time  to  know  him,  this  new  Massingale ! 

"  No,  no !  "  he  said  hoarsely.  "  I  don't  dare  —  I 
can't  —  it's  beyond  me !  Dodo,  at  seven  o'clock  can 
you  be  ready?  " 

"  Two  hours  only !  " 

"  Take  only  a  valise.  Let  everything  be  new !  Can 
you  do  it  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  I  will  go  and  arrange  my  affairs,  make  prepara- 
tions and  be  back  here  at  seven  precisely.  We'll  dine, 
and  then  —  the  night  express  for  the  West,  as  you 
wished ! " 

"Yes!" 

"  I  will  telephone.  You  will  come  down.  I  will  be 
at  the  corner,  waiting,  at  seven !  " 

"Yes!" 

He  caught  her  again  in  his  arms,  lifting  her  off  her 
feet,  half  mad  with  recklessness  and  impatience,  and 
started  toward  the  door.  Suddenly  he  turned,  came 
back,  and  catching  her  shoulders  in  his  two  hands, 
looked  at  her  savagely. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  said  faintly.  Could  this  be  what 
she  had  made  of  Massingale? 

"  I  am  throwing  everything  to  the  winds,  Dodo !  — 
giving  up  my  whole  life  for  you ! "  he  said  breathlessly. 
"You  will  come,  Dodo?" 

"  I  will  —  I  must ! "  she  said  in  wonder. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

MASSINGALE  had  come  so  tempestuously,  had 
gone  so  like  a  roaring  blast,  that  she  had  felt 
swept  up  and  whirled  about  in  a  revolving,  benumbing 
cycle.  She  followed  him  in  a  daze  to  the  hall,  lean- 
ing over  the  balusters,  watching  the  slipping  white  of 
his  hand  descend  and  vanish.  She  crossed  to  the  win- 
dow, peering  through  the  blurred  dripping  panes  for  a 
last  sight  of  his  skidding  car.  Then  she  returned, 
perceived  the  door  left  open,  closed  it  and  came  in- 
credulously back. 

"So  I  am  going!  It's  all  decided.  All!" 
she  whispered. 

It  was  no  longer  the  fabric  of  dreams,  but  actuality, 
that  confronted  her.  This  was  new,  uncomprehended, 
despite  all  her  dramatizations.  This  was  a  fact.  She 
was  to  leave  in  two  hours,  vanish  forever  from  the  cur- 
ious massive  room,  with  its  bel fried  clock  over  the 
roofs  and  its  blank  brick  wall  at  the  side,  out  into  the 
gray  restlessness  of  a  March  night.  Whither?  With 
whom  ?  With  a  strange  man  —  a  Massingale  she  had 
wrought  herself,  and  whom  she  now  scarcely  recog- 
nized. 

"  I  love  him.  I  said  I  would  go !  It's  what  I've 
wanted  all  along !  "  she  repeated,  struck  by  the  idea. 

"  Yes,  that's  true ;  it's  what  I've  wanted !  " 

492 


THE  SALAMANDER  493 

But  now  there  was  a  difference.  For  the  first  time, 
it  was  not  she  who  sought  to  incite  him  to  misty  ro- 
mance, but  the  man  himself  who  had  come  and  asked. 
It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  how  he  loved,  where  he 
would  go  at  her  beckoning,  her  will  over  him.  All  this 
had  been  miraculously  achieved.  It  was  now  only  a 
matter  of  what  she  would  do,  and  she  had  said  that 
she  would  go  —  in  two  short  hours!  She  remained 
immovable  and  listening,  and  already  it  seemed  to  her 
that  she  felt  the  shaken  iron  rush  of  a  flying  train, 
hurrying  her  onward  into  the  unknown. 

"Snyder!" 

Terrified,  overwhelmed  with  loneliness,  she  had  cried 
out,  longing  for  a  human  soul  to  listen,  ready  to  pour 
out  her  whole  story  in  confidence.  But  no  answer  re- 
turned. She  went  hastily  to  the  door  and  flung  it 
open.  The  room  was  empty,  filled  only  with  the 
vague  shadows  in  the  same  barren  dusk  that  pervaded 
her  own.  She  returned,  lighted  the  feeble  gas-jet  by 
her  bed,  and  going  to  the  embrasure  of  the  window,  sat 
down,  her  hands  weakly  in  her  lap,  her  head  thrown 
back,  gazing  inertly  at  the  yellow  clock-face  rising 
through  the  rain  flurries.  • 

No!  This  Massingale  was  not  the  man  who  had 
held  her  in  fascination  by  his  quiet  mastery,  whom  she 
had  despaired  ever  to  move!  Yet  she  had  wished  to 
see  him  thus,  uncontrolled,  at  her  feet,  wild  and 
shaken!  She  had  wished  it;  yet,  at  the  bottom,  had 
she  ever  really  believed  it  possible?  Now,  the  spec- 
tacle of  his  disorder  rather  terrified  her,  and  this  terror 
brought  a  certain  liberation.  She  was  satisfied;  she 


494  THE  SALAMANDER 

could  wish  for  no  completer  victory  over  this  man  who, 
by  a  trick  of  fate,  scarce  five  months  ago  had  caught 
and  tamed  her.  How  the  roles  were  reversed !  How 
abject  was  now  his  surrender!  For  her  he  was  sacri- 
ficing everything  —  career,  friends,  family,  all  —  to  go 
out  with  her  into  dark  ways.  What  had  she  wrought, 
a  miracle  or  a  crime  ? 

"  I  must  pack ;  I  must  make  ready !  "  she  said  to 
herself.  But  she  did  not  rise.  No  longer  framing 
her  thoughts,  lost  in  indefmiteness,  prey  to  a  heavy 
mental  stupor,  her  hands  lay  weakly  in  her  lap,  her 
head  thrown  back,  staring.  Later  her  fingers  stopped 
upon  the  sharp  facets  of  the  ring  which  had  been 
pledged  as  a  troth.  Garry!  What  should  she  say  to 
him?  How  make  him  understand?  She  rose 
heavily,  and  going  to  the  writing-desk,  brought  back 
pad  and  pencil.  Slowly,  seeing  dimly  the  sheet  on  her 
lap,  she  began : 

"Garry  dear:    I  am  going  away — " 

She  stopped.  She  could  not  add  another  word. 
What  could  be  added?  The  pencil  slipped  from  her 
fingers,  the  pad  slid  finally  to  the  floor.  She  returned 
again  into  the  stupor,  incapable  of  thought  or  action, 
waiting,  seeing  only  the  jerky  advance  of  a  minute- 
hand  around  the  yellow  surface,  until  an  hour  had  gone 
by  without  a  single  preparation. 

All  at  once  a  tear  gathered  in  her  eye  and  went 
slowly  down  her  cheek  —  a  tear  of  profound  fatigue, 
of  listlessness,  rather  than  the  touch  of  an  aching 
thought.  This  tear,  hot  and  unbidden,  seemed  to  dis- 


THE  SALAMANDER  495 

sipate,  all  at  once,  the  frigidity  of  her  mind.  She  sat 
up  hastily,  with  a  frightened  glance  at  the  clock.  It 
was  already  past  six. 

"What  am  I  doing?"  she  thought,  dismayed. 
"  He's  coming !  I  must  hurry !  " 

She  went  to  the  closet  and  brought  out  a  dress-suit- 
case, laid  it  open  across  a  table  and  gazed  helplessly 
about  her.  What  next? 

Ten  minutes  later,  Snyder,  coming  hastily  in,  found 
her  camped  on  the  floor,  sorting  an  enormous  pile  of 
stockings,  which  she  rolled  and  unrolled  without  de- 
cision. Nothing  had  yet  been  placed  in  the  open  suit- 
case, though  every  drawer  was  ajar  and  every  trunk- 
lid  up. 

"  Dodo !  "  cried  Snyder,  with  a  rapid  survey.  "  In 
the  name  of  heaven,  what  are  you  up  to?  " 

Snyder's  arrival  was  like  a  ray  of  hope  to  Dore. 
She  rose  quickly,  her  strength  of  mind  suddenly  re- 
stored —  at  last  some  one  to  whom  she  could  talk,  to 
whom  she  could  tell  of  the  great  romance  that  was 
sweeping  her  on ! 

"  Snyder,  I'm  leaving  now,  at  seven  o'clock,"  she 
said  firmly. 

"  Leaving,  honey?     For  how  long?  " 

"  I  guess  forever,  Snyder ! "  she  answered,  with  a 
little  shortness  of  breath. 

Snyder,  with  a  quick  motion,  flung  off  her  rain- 
coat, rolling  it  in  a  ball  and  hurling  it  through  the  open 
door  into  her  room.  Then  she  went  rapidly  to  Dodo, 
grasping  her  arms,  peering  into  her  face,  crying : 

"  Dodo !     That  Massingale  ?  " 


496  THE  SALAMANDER 

She  nodded,  answering  aggressively: 

"I  adore  him!" 

The  woman  recoiled,  wringing  her  hands,  overcome 
with  grief,  crying: 

"  Oh,  petty,  petty !  I  knew  it  would  come !  O  God 
of  mercy ! " 

"  But,  Snyder,  I  am  happy ! "  Dore  said.  Yet  the 
words  seemed  to  her  heavy,  there  in  the  shadowy 
room,  watching,  amazed,  the  agony  of  affection  and 
terror  that  shook  the  woman. 

"  Happy !  "  cried  Snyder,  with  a  mocking  laugh. 
"  God!  Do  you  know  what  you  are  doing?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know !  "  Suddenly  a  thought  struck 
her,  and  she  added  hastily :  "  Snyder,  you  are  wrong ! 
It  isn't  Massingale.  It's  I  who  have  done  it  all !  " 

"  That's  what  you  think !  " 

"No,  no  jit's  so!" 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"I  don't  know!" 

"When?" 

"  To-night ! " 

"And  after?" 

"What?" 

"And  after?" 

"  I  don't  understand !  " 

"What's  he  going  to  do?  Give  up  his  wife?  Di- 
vorce her?" 

"No,  no!" 

"  And  after !  —  what's  to  become  of  you?  " 

Dodo  \vas  silent.  All  the  fantastic  scheme  she  had 
imagined  —  a  year,  and  then  each  to  return  —  seemed 


THE  SALAMANDER  497 

so  inadequate  an  answer  now.  All  at  once  Snyder, 
in  a  sudden  rage,  bounded  to  the  table,  and  catching 
the  suit-case,  flung  it  scurrying  across  the  room. 

"  No,  petty !  You  shan't  do  it !  I  won't  let  him. 
I'll  kill  him  first!" 

"  Snyder,  Snyder,  you  don't  understand ! "  she 
cried. 

"Don't  I?  I  know!  Honey,  I  tell  you,  I  know! 
You're  the  one  who  don't  understand!  Honey,  I  tell 
you,  it  ain't  a  fair  world!  No;  it's  a  rotten  unfair 
world!  The  chances  ain't  equal!  A  woman  ain't  a 
man!  Think  of  your  own  security  first,  honey. 
You've  got  to,  or  God  help  you!  I  know! " 

"What  do  you  mean,  Snyder?" 

"  I  mean,  you  shan't  do  what  I  did ! "  said  the 
woman,  clutching  her  arm  — "  what  I  did  blindly !  " 

"You  weren't— " 

"  Married  ?  Never !  You  didn't  know  it  ?  I 
thought  you  guessed.  The  others  did !  " 

"  No,  no !  I  thought,  at  times  —  but  I  didn't 
know!" 

"Do  you  know  where  I  had  my  child?"  she  said, 
folding  her  arms  across  her  heart  and  flinging  back 
her  head  as  if  to  breast  a  storm.  "  I,  nineteen  years 
old,  a  girl?  In  a  charity  hospital,  between  a  black 
woman  and  a  raging  shrieking  dago  with  the  fear  of 
death  in  her!  The  story?  Hell!  Any  one's  story! 
What  does  that  matter?  Anyhow,  I  believed!  I  had 
ideas,  like  you:  liberty,  woman  same  as  man.  That 
suited  him!  It  suits  them  all!  What  do  they  risk? 
Honey,  if  I  told  you  what  I  went  through  those  last 


498  THE  SALAMANDER 

months,  you'd  never  look  at  a  man  again !  You  think 
I'm  bitter,  hard?  Yes,  I  am  hard,  through  and 
through !  And  I  believed  in  him.  And  proud  ?  God ! 
how  proud  I  was ! " 

"  Snyder!  Snyder!  "  She  put  out  her  hands  as  if 
to  ward  off  the  picture  that  rose  luridly  to  her  eyes. 

"  You  don't  know  —  no  woman  knows  what  the  hell 
of  suffering  is,"  she  continued  doggedly,  "  until  they're 
caught,  until  they've  got  to  bring  into  the  world  an- 
other soul,  and  you  stand  branded,  with  every  tongue 
against  you!  God!  What  a  world!  You  marry  — 
you're  safe !  You  can  be  a  fiend  incarnate,  lower  than 
the  gutter.  Nothing  to  say!  But  the  other?  To  be 
a  girl,  to  believe,  to  love,  to  bear  a  child,  as  God  in- 
tended you  to,  in  love  —  every  one  against  you,  your 
own  family  cursin'  you,  closing  the  doors  on  you,  tell- 
ing you  to  go  and  starve !  Don't  talk  to  me !  I  know ! 
Marry,  honey,  marry !  You've  got  to,  in  this  world !  " 

She  was  weeping  now,  and  the  sight  of  these  un- 
wonted tears  on  the  iron  countenance  of  Snyder  terri- 
fied Dodo  more  than  all  she  had  heard.  She  felt  now 
very  little,  very  weak,  far  from  the  volatile  Dodo  of 
dreams  and  fantasies. 

"  Oh,  Snyder !  "  she  cried  brokenly,  "  why  didn't  you 
tell  me  before?  I've  misjudged  you  so!  " 

"  Yes,  you've  done  that ! "  said  Snyder,  flinging 
awray  the  tears  and  coming  back  into  the  steeled  atti- 
tude again.  "  You  thought  I  didn't  care  for  the  kid 
—  for  Betty;  didn't  you?  " 

Dodo  nodded  dumbly,  great  lumps  in  her  throat. 

"  Why,  honey,  I  love  the  ground  she  walks  on !     I 


THE  SALAMANDER  499 

live  for  her!  Every  cent  I  can  scrape  together  she's 
to  have!  She's  to  go  to  the  finest  school,  to  get  an 
education.  She's  to  marry,  have  a  home!  .  .  ." 

"  But  then,  Snyder,  why  put  her  away  from  you  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  She  stopped,  drew  a  long  breath,  crossed 
her  arms  with  a  characteristic  brutal  motion  and  said, 
her  face  set  in  hardness:  "That's  the  horror  of  it! 
Because,  honey, —  don't  you  see  ?  —  I'm  training  my- 
self to  do  without  her,  training  myself  to  go  on  with- 
out depending  on  others,  doing  for  myself.  You  don't 
see?  Supposin'  I  had  her  with  me,  bless  her  heart! 
Supposin'  I  got  to  tying  up  my  life  to  hers,  needing 
her,  clinging  to  her  ?  Then  what  would  come  ?  The 
day  would  come  when  she'd  learn  the  truth,  and  turn 
against  me.  And  —  God !  I  couldn't  stand  anything 
more ! " 

"  Oh,  no,  Snyder,  she  wouldn't !  " 

"  Yes,  she  would !  I  know !  "  she  said,  shrugging 
her  shoulders.  "  No.  Better  as  it  is !  I'm  getting 
used  to  myself.  It's  a  rut,  but  it  keeps  me  going !  " 

Dodo  sank  into  a  chair,  shuddering  and  cold,  bury- 
ing her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  Snyder !     Snyder  1     Why  did  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Because  I  love  you,  honey !  You  know  I  love 
you!  I  couldn't  see  anything  hard  happen  to  you! 
It's  not  a  fair  world,  petty!  You've  got  to  play  the 
game.  A  woman's  got  to  think  of  her  security  first, 
I  tell  you!  For,  when  you  get  on  the  other  side  of 
the  wall,  it's  hell !  All  your  arguing  about  what  ought 
to  be  don't  change  it !  That's  why  I  say  to  you,  '  And 
after  ? '  Supposin'  you  can  believe  him,  suppose  he 


500  THE  SALAMANDER 

dies  in  the  next  months,  where'll  you  turn  ?  It's  a  rot- 
ten world.  They're  millions  and  millions,  and  you're 
only  just  yourself! " 

"Don't!  Don't!  No  more!"  she  cried.  "Oh, 
Snyder,  what  am  I  going  to  do  ?  " 

Yes,  she  felt  this  inequality  now.  Millions  on  mil- 
lions against  one,  all  her  courage  gone,  dismayed, 
aghast  before  the  ugliness  of  reality.  Courage?  She 
had  none,  not  the  slightest  shred  of  daring  left!  She 
drew  back  against  the  wall,  huddled  and  little,  so 
weak,  so  tired,  so  unable  to  struggle  any  longer! 

"  Ah,  what  am  I  going  to  do?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,  honey,"  said  Snyder,  starting  toward 
her  with  outstretched  arms.  But,  as  she  advanced, 
there  came  a  knock,  and  answering  Dodo's  terrified 
gesture  by  one  of  assurance,  she  went  to  the  door. 

"  No  one  —  no  one !  I  can  see  no  one !  "  said  Dodo, 
recoiling. 

Snyder  received  the  card  from  Josephus,  said  some- 
thing unintelligible,  and  came  back  radiant.  One 
glance  at  her  face  made  Dodo  suspect  the  truth.  She 
sprang  forward  with  a  frightened  cry : 

"  Who  is  it?     Snyder,  tell  me!  " 

But  the  woman,  struggling,  refused  the  card. 

"It's  not  Garry?  Not  he?"  she  said  frantically. 
'*  Any  one  but  him!  I  won't  see  him!  I  won't!  " 

And,  as  she  was  still  struggling  to  see  the  card,  the 
door  opened  and  Garry  came  powerfully  in.  Dodo 
stopped  short,  caught  her  throat  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  terror,  her  head  thrown  back  against  the  table, 


THE  SALAMANDER  501 

looking  at  the  strong  glowing  figure  with  the  light 
of  resurrection  in  his  eyes;  and  as  she  looked,  all  at 
once  a  beneficent  calm  seemed  to  fall  about  her,  cloth- 
ing her  with  peace.  All  the  good  she  had  ac- 
complished was  there.  She  looked  at  him,  and  she 
knew ! 

Snyder,  gliding  to  him,  said  but  three  words: 

"Now!     At  once!" 

Then,  drawing  back,  she  remained  by  the  door  to 
her  room,  her  whole  being  concentrated  on  the  scene, 
her  hands  clasped  as  if  in  prayer. 

He  came  directly  to  Dore,  and  lifted  her  up  in  his 
arms,  clear  of  the  floor,  not  rapaciously  or  uncon- 
trolled, as  the  acquisition  of  the  other  men,  but  cradling 
her  like  a  child,  tender  and  strong,  his  lips  on  the  light- 
est fluttering  golden  tress  of  her  hair.  She  felt  no 
passion,  but  a  great  thankfulness;  and  she  closed  her 
eyes. 

"  Ah,  Dodo,  how  have  I  ever  lived  a  day  from  you !  " 
he   said   rapidly.     "  Child,   how   I   love  you ! 
tired  little  child,  with  such  a  great  strength! 
have  I  ever  existed  a  day  away  from  you?  " 

Suddenly  he  set  her  down  reverently,  and  said 
firmly : 

"  Now,  put  on  your  coat  and  hat !  " 

She  looked  up  at  him,  too  tearfully  happy  to  com- 
prehend. 

"  Your  coat  and  hat,  and  come !  "  "he  said,  smiling 
his  strong  adoring  smile. 

The  next  moment  Snyder  had  stepped  to  her  side, 


502  THE  SALAMANDER 

holding  out  her  coat.  She  had  one  arm  in,  her  eyes 
on  him,  when  suddenly  she  started  away,  comprehend- 
ing. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  Where?  "  she  asked  breath- 
lessly. 

"  To  end  all  this,  Dodo !  To  marry  me  —  to  begin 
a  real  life  —  our  life!  "  he  said  firmly. 

She  went  from  him,  shaking  her  head,  putting  out 
her  hands  in  her  characteristic  defensive  gesture. 

"  No,  no,  Garry,  I  can't !  It  wouldn't  be  fair  —  it 
wouldn't  be  just  to  you!" 

"  What  wouldn't  be  fair  ?  Child,  don't  you  realize 
that  you  love  me?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,  Garry;  I  don't  know!  " 

"  I  know !  "  he  said  triumphantly.  "  Every  letter 
you've  written  me  has  breathed  it !  And  now  — 
Dodo,  can  you  doubt?" 

"  Listen,  Garry !  "  she  said,  tormented  with  the  fear 
of  harming  him,  righting  against  her  own  happiness. 
"I  do  care  for  you!  I  always  have!  But  how? 
That  I  don't  know!  Garry,  I  tell  you,  I  don't  know 
anything  to-night,  but  that  I'm  a  miserable  weak  crea- 
ture! Wait!  Wait  until  I  can  know!  Until  I  can 
be  sure !  " 

"  Put  on  your  coat  now !  "  he  said,  with  a  confident 
laugh. 

"No,  no!  Don't  you  see?"  she  cried,  shrinking 
away.  "  Don't  you  realize  that  I  wouldn't  harm  you 
for  anything  in  the  world?  I  won't  come  to  you  un- 
til I'm  sure  I  love  you  —  you,  and  only  you !  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  503 

"  You  will  come  now  with  me,  and  end  all  this  non- 
sense ! " 

"  To-morrow !  " 

"  No,  to-night !  " 

"But  if  I  don't  love  you?" 

"  If  you  don't  now,  you  will  love  me!  "  he  said  im- 
movably. "  Come,  this  must  be  ended !  You're  al- 
most crazy  now !  You  can't  think  or  act !  I'll  take  all 
responsibilities !  " 

He  strode  up  to  her,  the  coat  in  his  hands,  holding  it 
out  as  she  still  shrank  away. 

"Oh,  Garry!  It  isn't  right!  I  haven't  any 
strength  left.  I  don't  know  anything!  I'm  not  my- 
self —  no,  I'm  not  myself !  Be  generous !  " 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of?  Of  not  loving  me?  "  he 
cried. 

"Yes  —  yes!  Of  not  —  of  not — "  She  caught 
her  voice  and  cried :  "  Oh,  Garry !  I  am  not  worthy 
of  you!  I'm  a  vain,  foolish,  wild  creature!  You 
don't  know  me  —  how  wicked  I  am!  But  I  won't 
harm  you !  I  wouldn't  be  unjust !  Please !  Please !  " 

She  was  struggling  now,  with  a  yielding  strength. 
He  caught  her  arms  and  drew  her  coat  over  them. 

"  Dodo,  dear,  I  know !    Believe  me,  I  know !  " 

"  But  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  No,  now !     Come !     I'll  take  all  responsibility !  " 

Abruptly,  stridently,  the  telephone  rang,  and  with  it 
the  booming  notes  of  seven  o'clock. 

She  gave  a  cry,  frantic,  remembering  Massingale. 

"No,  no!     Never!     Not  to-night!     I  will  not!" 


504  THE  SALAMANDER 

He  stepped  between  her  and  the  still  ringing  tele- 
phone. 

"  You  shan't  answer  t     You  shall  come  with  me !  " 

"  No !  For  your  sake,  Garry,  for  your  sake,  I  tell 
you! "  she  cried,  her  extended  hands  shaking  with  the 
intensity  of  her  pleading.  Massingale  and  the  self 
she  could  not  trust  terrified  her.  No ;  she  could  never 
come  to  him  with  this  fear  of  what  another  man  had 
awakened  in  her  veins.  The  telephone  ceased.  She 
had  torn  off  her  coat.  He  came  quietly  to  her,  un- 
flinching in  his  resolve. 

"Dodo,  did  you  understand  me,  dear?"  he  said 
gently.  "  I  will  take  all  responsibilities !  " 

"You  don't  know  what  that  means!"  she  said 
hoarsely. 

"I  do  know!" 

At  this  moment  she  saw  Snyder  in  the  corner,  kneel- 
ing, her  hands  clasped  above  her  head.  A  sudden 
flood  of  tears  came  to  her.  He  drew  the  coat  once 
more  about  her,  his  voice,  too,  shaken: 

"Your  hat  now!" 

She  obeyed,  reaching  out  her  hand,  holding  it. 

"  Garry,  I  haven't  the  right !  "  she  said  brokenly. 
"  If  —  if  I  weren't  so  weak !  If  —  if  — " 

"  Put  it  on !  "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  Garry !  What  will  happen  ?  "  she  said  heavily. 
"  Promise,  whatever  happens  —  forgive  — " 

She  could  not  finish ;  her  voice  became  inarticulate. 
And  blindly  obeying  the  touch  of  his  fingers,  she  put 
on  her  hat,  grotesquely  turned  about.  The  next  mo- 


THE  SALAMANDER  505 

ment  his  arm  was  about  her,  seeming  to  lift  her  from 
the  ground.  At  the  door,  again  the  telephone  burst 
out.  She  shrank  back,  afraid  to  pass  it,  seeing  an 
omen. 

"  Come !  "  he  said  obstinately. 

His  arm  tightened  about  her  body,  not  to  be  denied. 
Her  head  buried  against  his  shoulder,  her  hands  clutch- 
ing his  coat,  they  swept  but  of  the  room,  down-stairs 
and  bravely  into  the  pattering  gusty  night.  Up-stairs 
the  telephone  continued  to  ring  a  long  time,  clamoring 
and  insistent.  And  for  a  long  time  the  figure  of  Sny- 
der  remained  kneeling  and  tense  and  motionless. 

At  ten  o'clock  Snyder  started  from  her  seat.  Dodo 
had  come  into  the  room.  She  was  against  the  door, 
her  face  tortured  and  white,  her  eyes  very  big. 

"His  wife!"  she  said  solemnly.  She  held  up  her 
hand,  on  which  a  thin  gold  band  was  shining.  "  We 
leave  to-night.  He  is  waiting  below.  Tell  me,  did  he 
come  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"You  told  him?" 

"I  told  him!" 

She  caught  at  her  throat,  and  made  as  if  to  ask  fur- 
ther questions,  but  suddenly  checked  herself,  went  to 
the  desk  and  drew  out  writing-paper.  She  wrote  but 
a  few  words,  though  once  she  stopped  and  rested  her 
forehead  in  her  hands.  Then  she  rose. 

"For  him  —  yourself!"'  she  said  with  difficulty. 
"To-night.  This  too." 


506  THE  SALAMANDER 

With  a  hurried  movement  she  joined  the  bracelet 
to  the  letter,  and  suddenly  seized  the  woman  in  a 
straining  desperate  grip. 

"  Snyder!  Snyder!  If  you've  ever  prayed  for  me 
—  pray  now !  " 

She  drew  her  veil  hurriedly  over  her  tortured 
white  face,  and  went  rapidly  away  into  the  night. 


AND  what  became  of  Dodo?  Did  she  completely 
change  —  in  a  twinkling,  and  changing  by  the 
divine  dispensation  of  being  a  woman,  forget  that 
other  turbulent  self?  Only  once  again  did  she  return 
into  the  hazardous  life  of  old  —  a  last  flash  of  the 
dramatic  impulse  —  and  the  adventure  came  close  to 
a  final  tragedy.  Six  months  after  that  rainy  March 
night  when  she  had  gone  weakly  into  the  rain  on 
Garry's  imperious  arm,  she  set  foot  in  New  York 
once  more. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  tragic  splendor  of  these  Towers 
of  Babel  aflame  against  the  night,  after  all  the  grim 
months  of  victorious  struggle  and  abnegation;  per- 
haps it  was  something  deeper  within  her  that  drove 
her  to  slip  from  the  sober  cloak  of  matrimony  and 
once  again  try  the  perilous  paths  of  the  Salamander. 

At  three  o'clock  the  next  afternoon,  she  left  her 
hotel,  after  procuring  a  promise  from  her  husband 
that  he  would  not  attempt  to  follow  her.  Below  Jock 
Lindaberry's  automobile  was  waiting,  a  footman  at 
the  door.  She  gave  the  familiar  number  of  Miss 
Pirn's  on  lower  Madison  and  sank  against  the  cush- 
ioned back.  A  mirror  caught  her  reflection  and  she 
gazed  with  a  queer  tugging  sensation  of  the  incongru- 
ities of  time.  It  was  Dodo  and  it  was  not  Dodo  at 

507 


508  THE  SALAMANDER 

all.  The  figure  was  still  fragile,  the  alert  poised 
eagerness  was  still  in  the  glance  and  the  arch  mischief 
in  the  smile,  but  that  was  all.  The  old  rebellion,  the 
recklessness,  the  nervous  unrest  were  gone.  She 
looked  incredulously  upon  a  woman  of  the  world, 
soberly  attired  in  blues  and  blacks,  correctly  bonneted 
and  veiled,  a  woman  at  peace,  pensive  and  settled, 
with  a  note  of  authority.  She  gazed  long  with  mem- 
ory haunted  eyes,  half  inclined  to  laughter  and  half 
verging  on  tears.  Now  that  she  had  set  recklessly 
out  in  search  of  the  past,  she  began  to  experience  a 
little  doubt.  Familiar  corners,  a  glimpse  of  a  res- 
taurant, ways  by  which  she  had  so  often  returned, 
brought  her  a  strange  disturbance.  Which  was  real, 
Dodo  Baxter  or  the  present  Mrs.  Lindaberry? 

At  the  door  she  dismissed  the  automobile,  aware  of 
sudden  eyes  in  windows  above  and  climbed  the 
brownstone  steps.  The  emotion  of  familiarity  was 
so  instantaneous  that  absent-mindedly  she  found  her- 
self seeking  in  her  purse  for  a  departed  latch-key. 
Not  Josephus  but  another  darky  answered  her  ring. 
On  the  hat-rack  was  a  disordered  heap  of  letters  which 
other  girls  tremulously  would  come  to  sort.  In  the 
musty  parlor  with  its  Sunday  solemnity  a  couple  were 
whispering,  sinking  their  voices  in  sudden  conscious- 
ness at  her  arrival.  She  groped  her  way  into  the  ob- 
scurity of  the  stairs,  thinking  with  a  little  melan- 
choly of  the  girl  and  the  man  below,  playing  the  old, 
old  game.  On  the  second  landing,  from  the  room 
that  once  was  Ida's,  another  girl  in  hasty  kimono  was 
saying, 


THE  SALAMANDER  509 

"  You  answer  —  tell  him  I  went  out  with  another 
man  —  make  out  I'm  furious  — " 

She  caught  herself  at  Dodo's  rustling  coming,  ey- 
ing her  curiously  and  then  as  though  reassured  ended, 
"  If  he  responds  with  a  bid  for  dinner,  grab  it !  " 

The  whispering  plotters  recalled  a  hundred  frag- 
ments of  the  old  life,  as  though  one  cry  had  started 
echoes  from  every  corner  and  cranny.  She  went  on 
a  little  saddened  by  the  sound  of  old  accents  in  new 
mouths.  So  even  she  had  not  been  different  from 
the  rest.  Other  Dodos  would  come  and  go  as  she 
had  passed,  as  everything  changed  and  gave  way  to 
the  same  renewals.  Then  she  opened  the  door  of  her 
room  and  saw  Snyder  standing  —  gazing  eagerly  at 
her. 

She  did  not  cross  immediately,  waiting  by  the  door, 
lost  in  familiar  details  of  patched  walls  and  carpets, 
noting  changes,  the  absence  of  confusion,  the  new 
note  of  bare  simplicity. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  quite  the  same  —  without  the 
trunks.  You've  moved  the  couch,  too.  Funny,  queer 
old  room !  "  she  said  solemnly. 

For  the  trunks  that  had  served  so  often  as  im- 
promptu bureaus,  were  gone,  all  save  one, —  those 
trunks  that  were  always  gaping  open,  in  such  fine  dis- 
order. Then  there  were  no  flowers,  sporting  theii 
gay  extravagance  from  rickety  table  or  smoky  mantel 
and  the  great  gilt  mirror  which  had  leaned  in  the 
corner  had  departed,  too.  Yet  all  the  familiar  old 
seemed  incredibly  distant :  even  that  rapid  figure  her 
imagination  conjured  up,  perched  on  a  trunk  before 


510  THE  SALAMANDER 

the  dressing-table  studying  a  disastrous  hole  in  a 
golden  stocking.  Was  that  Dodo  and  if  so  where  had 
been  the  present  self  all  that  tempestuous  time  ?  Sud- 
denly she  noted  the  figure  of  the  woman  waiting  on 
her  tensely.  She  raised  her  veil,  crossed  quickly,  hold- 
ing out  her  arms. 

"  How  is  he  —  how  is  Mr.  Lindaberry  ?  "  said  Sny- 
der  at  once. 

"Garry?     Magnificent' — every  inch  a  man." 

"And  you?" 

"  And  I  ?  "  she  asked  a  little  puzzled. 

"  You're  happy,  aren't  you  ?  "  said  Snyder  breath- 
lessly. 

"Oh  —  very  happy — "  She  added  with  careful 
emphasis,  "  Very,  very  happy !  " 

She  slipped  off  her  black  fur  jacket  and  was  about 
to  toss  it  on  a  chair  when  she  stopped,  folded  it  care- 
fully and  handed  it  to  Snyder. 

"  I  forgot.  Seems  like  old  times  for  us  to  be  here 
and  you  waiting  on  me."  She  took  off  her  gloves, 
rolled  them  in  a  ball  and  tossed  them  to  Snyder  who 
placed  them  beside  the  coat  on  the  bed.  She  added, 
seeking  to  give  the  conversation  a  casual  note :  "  You 
got  my  letter  of  course.  It's  all  right?  I  can  have 
the  room  for  the  afternoon  —  alone?  " 

"  Sure." 

"  I  don't  need  to  explain,  do  I  ?  "  she  said  rapidly. 
"It's—" 

"  Shut  up,  honey,"  said  Snyder  in  the  old  rough 
manner,  "  it's  all  yours." 

"  No  one  will  come  ?  " 


THE  SALAMANDER  511 

"  No  one  ever  comes." 

"  And  who's  in  that  room  —  Winona's?  "  she  asked, 
walking  to  the  door  and  listening. 

"  She's  gone  from  noon  —  teaching  Fifth  Avenue 
to  walk  like  Hester  Street.  Don't  know  her.  She's 
new." 

She  passed  the  dressing-table,  still  crowded  with  her 
knickknacks  and  mementoes. 

"  Snyder,"  she  said  surprised,  "  you've  kept  all 
those  crazy  things.  Heavens,  what  didn't  I  used  to 
do !  "  She  sat  down  before  the  table,  shaking  her 
head  at  the  strange  reflection.  "Is  it  possible!" 
Then  turning  quickly  she  said,  "  And  you,  Snyder  ? 
Tell  me  all  about  yourself." 

"  Me  ?  Sliding  to  fame  on  greased  rails,"  said  Sny- 
der pleased.  "  Two  hundred  dollars  a  week  now. 
Fact.  Betty?  She'll  marry  a  dook  yet!  " 

Dodo  rose  and  taking  from  her  purse  a  pendant,  a 
diamond  cross  with  a  pearl  in  the  center,  held  it  out. 

"  It's  for  Betty  —  the  first  thing  we  bought.  It's 
to  bring  her  everything  in  the  world." 

"  My  lord  — "  said  Snyder  aghast.  "  Look  here  — 
that  ain't  right  —  it  must  have  cost  — " 

"  Hush,  you  funny  old  thing,"  said  Dodo,  silencing 
her.  "  Don't  you  know  it  never  —  never  could  cost 
enough ! " 

But  before  another  word  could  be  exchanged  Miss 
Pim  burst  effusively  into  the  room,  ruffling  like  a 
motherly  fowl. 

"  Dodo !  Land's  sake  what  a  swell  you've  be- 
come ! " 


512  THE  SALAMANDER 

She  bore  down,  open-armed,  for  a  convulsive  hug 
but  Dodo  extending  a  formal  hand  checked  her. 

"  How  do  you  do  —  very  glad  to  see  you,  I'm  sure." 

"  Two  men,  Dodo !  Chauffeur  and  footman !  "  ex- 
claimed Miss  Pirn,  blundering  a  little  over  the  defen- 
sive handshake,  but  unabashed.  "  My,  I  think  I 
should  expire  on  the  spot  if  I  ever  went  up  Fifth  Ave- 
nue behind  a  chauffeur  and  a  footman.  You  lucky, 
lucky  girl  —  who'd  have  thought  you'd  make  such  a 
match  —  you  such  a  fly-away !  Well,  you  always 
were  my  favorite." 

Again  the  door  slapped  enthusiastically  against  the 
wall  and  Anita  Morgan  bounded  in,  all  eyes  and  ex- 
clamations. 

"  Dodo !  The  lord  be  praised !  Won't  Clarice  be 
surprised?  Heard  about  her?  She's  domesticated 
too  —  oddles  of  money  —  old  gent  in  splendid  state 
of  ill  health!  My,  won't  she  be  crazy  to  see  you! 
How  well  you  look!  Clever  puss!  Always  said  you 
were  the  slyest  of  us  all !  " 

"  Heavens,  Anita,  do  be  careful,"  said  Dodo,  disen- 
gaging herself  from  the  reckless  embrace,  "  you're 
tearing  me  to  pieces !  " 

Anita,  jumping  on  the  table,  rocking  enthusiastic- 
ally, rushed  on: 

"  How's  Garry  —  the  darling!  " 

"  Mr.  Lindaberry's  health  is  quite  satisfactory," 
said  Dodo  coldly. 

"  Come  off!  "  said  Anita  with  a  laugh.  "  Guess  I 
played  round  with  Garry  before  you  ever  did.  I  say, 
Do,  I'm  just  dying  for  a  good  old  bust!  Lord,  it's 


THE  SALAMANDER  513 

been  slow  since  you  went.  Gee,  everything's  broke 
up.  Ida's  a  hundred  years  married  —  can't  talk  any- 
thing but  the  price  of  eggs  and  Brussel  carpets.  Thank 
the  lord,  Dodo,  you  and  Garry  are  back  to  start  some- 
thing!" 

Snyder  by  the  mantelpiece  was  standing  grimly  pre- 
pared, watching  for  developments,  while  Miss  Pim 
overawed  was  listening  open-mouthed. 

"  My  dear  Anita,"  said  Dodo  quietly,  "  I'm  afraid 
you  are  going  to  be  disappointed  again.  We  are  go- 
ing to  be  very  quiet  —  much  too  quiet  for  you!  " 

Something  in  the  cold  decision  of  the  tone  opened 
Anita's  eyes.  She  looked  at  Dodo  with  a  new  vision, 
with  a  flare-up  of  that  fierce  caste  antagonism  which 
Dodo  once  had  felt  so  brutally,  face  to  face  with  Mrs. 
Massingale. 

"  Dear  me,  as  late  as  that !  "  she  said,  glancing  at  a 
wrist  watch  with  extra  nonchalance.  "  I  must  be 
rushing.  So  glad  though  to  have  had  this  glimpse." 
She  shook  hands  airily.  "  You  look  quite  shaken 
down,  dear  —  quite  matronly.  I  should  never  have 
thought  it.  Good-by.  My  love  to  poor  old  Garry." 

She  went  out  languidly,  her  head  in  the  air.  Miss 
Pim  remained,  shuffling  from  foot  to  foot,  awed  and 
embarrassed,  wondering  how  to  exit  with  dignity. 

Dodo,  quite  at  her  ease  and  determined,  came  to  her 
aid. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Pim,  there  are  certain  things  I  must 
talk  over  with  Snyder.  If  you  will  wait  for  me  — 
down-stairs,  I'll  drop  in  as  I  go  out  —  since  I  was  al- 
ways your  favorite !  " 


514  THE  SALAMANDER 

"Down-stairs?"  said  Miss  Pirn,  absolutely  dazed 
by  this  easy  air  of  patronage. 

"  Yes,  that's  it." 

"  Oh,  down-stairs?  "  she  repeated,  open-mouthed. 

She  turned,  gazed  at  Snyder,  bumped  against  the 
table  and  sidled  out  of  the  room,  staring  at  Dodo  in 
consternation. 

Snyder  who  had  been  silently  enjoying  the  scene 
stepped  forward,  folding  her  arms  abruptly. 

"  Right,  honey  —  you've  got  your  chance  now. 
Cut  away  all  the  rest !  " 

"  Yes,  I  must,"  Dodo  answered,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  gazing  out  of  the  great  bay-window  to  where 
the  Metropolitan  tower,  like  a  great  stalk  among  the 
weeds,  was  silhouetted  against  the  changing  white  and 
yellow  clouds.  She  had  been  abrupt,  she  had  been 
cruel,  yet  she  knew  she  had  only  done  what  she  had 
to  do.  Snyder  had  understood,  the  readjustment  was 
to  be  profound. 

"  Sure,  you  must,"  said  Snyder  standing  before  her 
stubbornly.  "  Oil  and  water  don't  mix.  Don't  you 
get  sentimental  —  don't  you  flinch  —  cut  it  all  out ! 
Start  new."  She  nodded  twice  resolutely,  turned  and 
going  to  the  bed,  flung  on  her  coat  and  slapped  on  her 
hat  in  her  familiar  way.  She  came  back  struggling  in 
the  sleeves.  "  The  room's  yours." 

Dodo,  a  little  embarrassed,  felt  called  upon  for  an 
explanation. 

"  You  see  I  want  it  for  a  particular  — "  she  began, 
only  to  be  interrupted. 

"  Cut  out  explanations.     It's  yours.     Well,  honey, 


THE  SALAMANDER  515 

you've  got  a  bully  start,  hang  on  to  it  —  hang  on  hard. 
Good  luck  —  good-by." 

Suddenly  Dodo  comprehended.  She  caught  the 
woman  in  indignant  revolt. 

"  Not  you,  Snyder !     Never  you !  " 

"  Oh,  yes  —  me  more  than  the  rest,"  said  Snyder 
heavily. 

"Oh,  no,  no!    Never!" 

"What's  the  use  of  fooling  ourselves?"  said  Sny- 
der stubbornly.  "  You've  found  yourself  —  you've 
started  a  real  life —  Thank  God.  I've  got  no  place 
in  it."  As  Dodo  emotionally  stricken  started  to  pro- 
test she  shook  her  head,  smiling  a  strange  smile,  taking 
up  doggedly.  "  Let's  be  honest.  See  here  —  it  is  a 
queer  world.  We  bumped  against  each  other  going 
through  it  —  God  knows  how  —  you've  been  square 
to  me  and  I've  been  square  to  you.  Lord,  that's 
enough.  Precious  lot  more  than  most  people  can  say." 
She  stopped,  locked  her  hands  convulsively  and  avoided 
Dodo's  eyes.  "  Well,  your  train  has  got  to  go  one 
way  —  mine  another.  That's  all.  Here,  give  me  your 
hand.  We're  not  going  to  fool  ourselves  or  each 
other.  You  know  what's  got  to  be.  Good-by  — 
good  luck." 

"  Oh,  Snyder,  it's  too  cruel,  life  is  too  cruel!  "  said 
Dodo,  her  eyes  blinded,  her  throat  choking. 

"  You  see,"  said  Snyder,  forcing  a  smile,  "  even 
you  know  what  I  say  is  right." 

"  No  —  no,  I  didn't  mean  it  that  way,"  said  Dodo 
indignantly,  but  she  stopped  short,  struck  with  the 
truth  of  it  all. 


516  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  I  know  you  didn't,"  said  Snyder,  fist  to  her  eyes. 
"  Hell,  am  I  going  to  get  sentimental  ?  "  Suddenly 
she  took  Dodo's  hand,  muttered  something  incoherent 
and  raised  it  to  her  lips.  Then  she  broke  from  the 
weeping  woman  and  went  hastily  to  the  door. 

"  Remember,"  she  said,  "  don't  you  flinch  —  don't 
you—" 

Suddenly  she  stopped,  caught  her  throat  and  went 
out  with  a  last  feeble  wave  of  her  hand.  Dodo  sank 
down,  overcome  with  loneliness  and  the  melancholy  of 
other  existences. 

She  had  come  indeed  to  set  the  seal  on  the  past,  to 
tie  up  old  bundles,  old  memories,  sweet  and  sad,  re- 
grets and  failures ;  to  arrange  them  into  compact  moral 
bundles,  to  be  placed  carefully  on  the  shelves  of  ob- 
livion, but  she  had  not  contemplated  eliminating  Sny- 
der. Yet  the  pitiless  verity  had  penetrated  and  con- 
vinced her.  Nothing  of  the  old  life  could  travel  with 
her  into  the  new.  When  she  had  recovered  herself 
she  went  rapidly  to  the  narrow  window  and  flung  down 
the  shade  to  blot  out  the  impending  side  of  brick.  She 
threw  open  the  trunk  and  the  little  bureau  where  Sny- 
der had  religiously  guarded  her  things.  There  were 
a  hundred  reminders  of  the  old  life,  scrawled  notes 
from  forgotten  props,  the  card  of  Sassoon's  with  the 
scribbled  entreaty  to  see  him  for  a  short  time,  type- 
written business  letters  from  Mr.  Peavey,  a  confi- 
dential note  from  Harrigan  Blood  —  a  tintype  she 
once  had  had  taken  with  Nebbins  at  a  Sunday  picnic 
• —  a  photograph  of  Blainey  looking  uncomfortably 
posed,  scores  of  cards  which  had  accompanied  flowers, 


THE  SALAMANDER  517 

Christmas  offerings,  pawn-tickets,  birthday  presents, 
what  not,  and  in  a  separate  packet  done  round  with 
red  ribbon,  all  that  Judge  Massingale  had  written  her, 
beginning  with  that  first  miserable  apology. 

"Dear  Miss  Baxter: 

"  I  was  out  of  my  head  ...  I  should  have  known  my  limi- 
tations ...  I  didn't  .  .  ." 

She  sat  down,  her  lap  filled,  looking  into  the  stormy 
past  through  this  strange  rent  in  the  fabric  of  the 
actual.  A  knock  sounded  from  the  hall  and  she  sprang 
up  hastily,  gazing  in  sudden  fear  at  the  round  clock- 
face  of  the  Metropolitan  Tower.  The  successor  to 
Josephus  was  at  the  door,  hesitating  at  her  appear- 
ance. 

"  Yes,  it  is  for  me,"  she  said  hastily,  glancing  at  the 
card.  "  It's  all  right.  Send  him  up." 

She  returned  in  a  panic,  closing  the  trunk,  pushing 
in  stubborn  bureau  drawers.  Now  that  he  had  actu- 
ally come,  as  she  had  written  him,  as  she  had  not  be- 
lieved he  would  come,  she  felt  cold  and  hot  all  at  once 
with  sudden  irregular  knockings  of  her  heart  within. 
What  would  be  the  end  of  it  all  ?  What  power  had  he 
still  over  her?  All  at  once  she  perceived  the  packet 
of  letters  on  the  bed  where  she  had  thrown  them  — 
his  letters  —  and  rushing  over  caught  them  up  and 
flung  them  in  the  hastily  opened  trunk. 

"Come—" 

She  turned  instantly  intent  —  rigid.  But  her  ear 
had  deceived  her,  there  had  been  no  knock.  She 
caught  her  breath  twice,  dug  her  nails  into  the  palms 


5i8  THE  SALAMANDER 

of  her  hands  and  walked  steadily  away.  When  a  mo- 
ment later  there  came  a  knock,  she  was  able  to  say 
calmly : 

"  Yes,  come." 

The  door  opened  with  a  certain  solemnity  and 
Judge  Massingale  came  in.  She  acknowledged  his 
coming  with  a  half-forward  gesture  of  her  hand,  her 
glance  on  the  floor,  afraid  of  the  first  recognition,  say- 
ing rapidly: 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  come,  very  good.  Thank 
you." 

He  stood,  without  movement  to  lay  aside  his  hat 
and  stick,  self-possessed  and  cynically  amused. 

"  I  have  come,  my  dear  lady,"  he  said  evenly. 
"  Well,  because  —  I  was  curious." 

"  I  had  to  see  you,"  she  said  in  a  low  rapid  voice. 
"  I  could  not  bear  —  I  had  to  see  you  —  I  wanted  you 
to  understand." 

"  Understand  ?  What  a  curious  word.  You'll  be 
saying  forgive  next." 

"  Ah,  yes,  forgive  me,"  she  cried  impulsively,  look- 
ing at  him  for  the  first  time.  "  Forgive  me  for  all  the 
harm  I've  done  to  you !  " 

"  And  I  came  to  congratulate  you."  He  laid  his 
hat  and  cane  mathematically  on  a  table  and  came  for- 
ward with  the  same  controlled  smile. 

"  Oh,  let  me  explain,"  she  said,  revolting  at  his 
manner. 

"  Explain  ?  There  is  nothing  to  explain,  everything 
is  quite  clear  —  to  me  at  least,"  he  said,  and  against 


THE  SALAMANDER  519 

his  intention  a  note  of  harshness  came  into  his  voice. 
"  You  played  your  game  perfectly.  You  used  me  for 
just  what  you  wanted:  to  bring  another  man  to  the 
point.  Oh,  don't  apologize.  It's  done  a  great  deal 
nowadays  in  the  best  of  families.  You  have  made  a 
splendid  marriage,  Mrs.  Lindaberry.  I  do  congratu- 
late you." 

"  You  don't  believe  that,"  she  said  angrily. 

"  Pardon  me,  I  do.  I'm  not  reproaching  you.  I 
warned  myself  again  and  again.  I  said  once  if  I  ever 
was  fool  enough  to  believe  you  I  would  be  lost.  Well, 
I  believed  you.  I  blame  only  myself.  You  are  a 
very  clever  woman,  Mrs.  Lindaberry." 

She  twisted  her  hands  helplessly,  staring  out  the 
window  over  worn  roofs  to  storm-clouds  piling  against 
the  sky,  hurt  and  defenseless  against  his  light  irony. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said  tremulously.  "  You  have  a 
right  —  I  deserve  all  that."  She  sat  down  weakly, 
her  hands  between  her  knees,  staring  out. 

"  Oh,  please,"  he  said,  smiling  at  the  dramatic  as- 
sumption. "  Don't  let's  take  things  too  seriously.  I 
was  not  so  hard  hit  as  all  that.  Honestly,  now  that 
it's  all  over  I'm  —  well,  rather  relieved.  It  would 
have  been  rather  a  nasty  mess.  I  like  the  ruts  of  life; 
I'm  quite  happy  going  on  as  I  am.  You  see  how  frank 
I  am  —  I  won't  play  the  injured  hero.  Now  that  I 
look  back,  critically,  in  my  own  sort  of  way,  I  assure 
you  my  only  sentiment  is  one  of  admiration.  Great 
heavens,  what  does  it  avail  to  have  all  the  knowledge 
of  the  world  against  one  little  woman!  Come,"  he 


520  THE  SALAMANDER 

added  with  a  certain  nervous  intentness,  which  belied 
the  simulated  lightness  of  his  tone,  "  be  frank.  You 
know  you  never  meant  to  go." 

She  shook  her  head  slowly,  staring  ahead  of  her  as 
though  painfully  distinguishing  that  other  volatile  and 
breathless  self. 

"  It  seems  an  awful  thing  to  say  now,"  she  said 
slowly.  "  I  think  I  would  have  gone  if  I'd  been  sure 
of  you." 

"  If!  "  he  said  scornfully. 

"  You  never  really  wanted  to  go ! "  she  said,  rising 
and  approaching  him  swiftly,  speaking  rapidly  with 
quick  breaths.  "  You  only  wanted  the  sensation  of 
the  forbidden  —  you,  too !  All  you  say  now  proves 
it!  You  were  always  thinking  of  society  —  of  what 
your  friends  — •  and  the  newspapers  would  say  —  al- 
ways afraid,  always  hesitating,  always  a  gentleman ! " 

"  True,  but  not  at  the  last,"  he  said  doggedly,  for- 
getting his  pose. 

"  Yes,  yes,  even  at  the  last.  Just  the  same  at  the 
last,"  she  said  angrily.  "  No,  no !  I  was  to  blame ! 
I  saw  in  you  what  you  were  not,  what  you  could  never 
be.  I  was  wild  —  crazy ;  but  I  longed  for  something 
beautiful — >a  great  romance.  I  thought  you  under- 
stood —  you  didn't !  It  was  never  anything  but  an 
infatuation  with  you  —  just  that  and  nothing  else  — 
something  pulling  you  down !  " 

"  That  is  not  true,"  he  said  roughly,  stirred  by  her 
charge.  "  At  the  end  it  was  I  and  not  you  who  would 
have  made  the  greater  sacrifice.  I  was  ready  to  throw 
over  everything ! " 


THE  SALAMANDER  521 

"  No,  no !  "  she  repeated  blindly.  "  You  weren't 
going  of  your  own  free  will.  There  were  times  when 
you  hated  me  more  than  you  loved  me.  At  the  end 
you  were  going  like  a  criminal !  " 

"What!  When  I  had  told  my  wife  all  —  broken 
with  her  —  put  myself  in  her  power  —  turned  my  back 
on  everything  —  yes,  and  gladly !  " 

"  I  never  believed  it,"  she  said  standing  in  front  of 
him,  inciting  him  by  word  and  look.  "  I  don't  believe 
it  now.  If  you  had  cared  as  I  wanted — " 

"  Cared !  Great  God,"  he  broke  in  passionately, 
"  I  was  ready  to  exile  myself,  to  throw  my  reputation 
to  the  dogs  —  to  ruin  my  whole  life.  Cared!" 

"  You  cared ! "  she  said  in  rapid  scorn.  "  You 
loved !  And  now  six  months  later  you  can  come  here 
calmly,  brutally,  cynically,  and  say,  '  I  came  because 
I  was  curious.'  You  cared!  " 

A  blind  animal  fury  swept  over  him.  He  caught 
her  in  his  arms,  murder  and  abject  yielding  wrestling 
in  his  soul. 

"Dodo!" 

She  had  swept  aside  all  the  artifices  of  the  man  of 
the  world.  The  man  beneath  the  veneer,  rage  or  pas- 
sion led,  held  her  in  a  clasp  that  left  its  wounds  upon 
her  tender  arms.  Yet  she  did  not  move  or  cry  out. 
He  looked  at  her  inertly  thus,  immobile  as  a  statue  and 
suddenly  as  though  perceiving  a  strange  woman,  he 
released  her  roughly,  amazed  at  himself. 

"  Good  God,"  he  said,  striking  his  forehead, 
"  haven't  you  done  me  enough  harm  already !  " 

She  burst  out  weeping. 


522  THE  SALAMANDER 

He  turned,  stirred  to  a  guilty  responsibility,  trying 
to  bluster  into  the  better  reason. 

"  Why  did  you  bring  me  here  ?  " 

She  made  no  answer. 

"  Dodo,"  he  said  angrily,  wondering  still  at  her  mo- 
tive with  growing  alarm,  "  I  warn  you ;  all  is  over  be- 
tween us.  You  yourself  have  done  it.  You  belong 
to  another ! " 

She  fell  back  in  a  chair,  her  sobs  redoubling  hys- 
terically; a  wild  laugh  suddenly  breaking  through. 

"I'm  sorry  —  I'm  awfully  sorry,"  he  said,  stirred 
from  his  anger  and  his  righteousness. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  brokenly,  "  you've  done  nothing 
—  nothing,  but  what  I  wished." 

"  What!  "  he  said  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

"  I  wanted  you  to  forget  yourself  —  to  take  me  in 
your  arms,"  she  said  almost  incoherently. 

He  could  not  believe  his  ears.  Astounded,  he 
seized  her  by  the  wrist,  saying  angrily : 

"  You  —  you  did  this  on  purpose !  " 

"  I  did,  and  oh,  it  is  the  worst,  the  most  awful  thing 
I've  done  in  all  my  life  —  I  know  it,  I  know  it!  But 
I  had  to  do  it,  yes,  I  had  to.  Oh,  forgive  me,  Your 
Honor.  I  had  no  right  but  I  had  to  know." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  said,  releasing  her  and 
staring  at  her  to  assure  himself  that  she  was  in  her 
right  mind. 

She  rose,  the  tears  at  an  end,  facing  him  calmly, 
even  with  a  new  sense  of  power,  which  struck  pro- 
foundly into  his  masculine  vanity. 


THE  SALAMANDER  523 

"  I  had  to  know  that  I  was  really  free  —  that  you 
had  no  more  power  over  me  —  that  I  could  go  on  with 
my  life,"  she  said  simply. 

It  was  too  monstrous,  he  could  not  credit  it. 

"And  you  brought  me  here  for  that?"  he  said 
slowly. 

"  Yes." 

"  Good  heavens,"  he  cried,  revolted  and  shocked, 
"  you  —  you  could  do  —  such  a  thing,  such  an  in- 
defensible, outrageous  thing  as  this.  That  is  too 
much,  I  can  not  understand  — " 

"  I  did  it,"  she  said  quietly,  "  because  I  want  to  be 
a  good  wife." 

"  Then  it  was  not  because  you  wished  to  get  me 
back?  "  he  cried,  too  amazed  not  to  be  indiscreet. 

"  Why,  no  —  of  course  not !  " 

"  It  is  incredible !  "  he  said  stupidly  aghast  at  her 
candor. 

"  Then  I  wanted  you  to  understand,"  she  said 
swiftly.  "  Wait.  You  will  understand,"  she  added 
quickly,  her  hand  on  his  arm  as  he  started  an  angry 
gesture.  "  Yes,  yes,  you  will,  because  I  know  you  or 
would  I  have  let  you  come  here  ?  "  she  said  illogically. 
"  You  are  too  big  —  you  understand  everything  — 
you  will  me." 

There  was  a  moment's  silent  struggle  as  their  eyes 
met  each  other.  Then  without  waiting  his  answer, 
confidently  she  said : 

"  You  know,  after  all,  it's  very  simple.  You  were 
right.  You  remember  that  first  time  here  —  you  said 


524  THE  SALAMANDER 

I  was  to  end  like  all  the  rest, —  just  an  ordinary  little 
house- frau.  Wasn't  I  furious  though !  Well,  you 
were  right!  That's  just  what  I  have  come  to  be!  " 

The  incredible  side  of  it  all,  the  boldness  of  the  situ- 
ation, yet  the  naturalness  of  the  incomprehensible  Dodo 
doing  just  this,  caught  him  with  the  old  fascination. 
He  yielded. 

"  You,  Dodo,  are  saying  this,"  he  said,  interested 
despite  himself,  "you  who  adored  precipices?" 

"  Did  I  ?  "  She  shook  her  head,  with  a  little  catch 
after  breath,  in  the  suddenness  of  her  victory  which 
his  surrender  had  brought  her.  "  I  think  all  my  dar- 
ing was  just  ignorance.  Now,  when  I  look  back  I  am 
frightened  to  death.  You  thought  I  was  such  a  wild 
breathless  creature  —  no!  I  never  really  was  brave. 
You  see,  I  imagined  a  world  as  every  girl  must.  It 
wasn't  real,  nothing  was  real.  It  was  all  just  groping 
after  something  —  just  waiting,  longing.  And  that's 
why  I  was  as  I  was  with  you.  I  was  impatient,  tired 
of  waiting.  And  I  imagined  the  answer.  Often  I 
try  to  understand  why  I  did  what  I  did.  Then  I  used 
to  be  so  thrilled  by  every  reckless,  lawless  thing  I  did. 
It  gave  me  the  feeling  of  a  cork  bobbing  over  hungry 
waves.  What  a  pitiful  little  creature  that  Dodo  was ! 
She  thought  she  could  conquer  life.  She  didn't  know. 
She  thought  she  was  different  from  the  rest.  She  was 
only  restless,  a  helpless  little  rebel,  with  every  man's 
hand  against  her.  And  because  she  didn't  want  to  be 
like  all  the  rest  —  what  a  terrible  disaster  it  came  near 
being!"  She  stopped,  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  the 
past  and  then  turning  to  him,  gaining  confidence  by 


THE  SALAMANDER  525 

what  she  saw  in  his  eyes,  went  on  in  soft  pleading: 
"  Don't  judge  me.  The  game  wasn't  square.  It  never 
is  between  a  man  and  a  girl.  You  would  have  had  your 
man's  world  to  go  back  to  —  and  I?  Oh,  won't  you 
understand  why  I  did  what  I  did?  Can't  you  under- 
stand how  hard  it  is  for  a  girl,  all  by  herself,  to  really 
know  what  she  wants  of  life?  Your  Honor,  can't  you 
forgive  ?  " 

He  had  been  profoundly  moved  by  her  words  and 
by  the  deep  tones  of  her  voice,  beyond  any  power  of 
simulation.  He  knew  he  would  grant  her  request  and 
yet  with  a  last  personal  feeling  against  the  unreason- 
ableness of  asking  it  of  him,  he  said : 

"  What  difference  can  it  make  to  you  whether  I 
forgive  or  not  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  it  does  —  it  does,"  she  cried,  joining  her 
hands  in  a  passionate  entreaty. 

"  Dodo,"  he  said  solemnly,  not  daring  to  look  at 
her,  "  I  suppose  you  are  my  destiny.  I  shall  always 
go  on  loving  you.  If  you  need  this  from  me  to  be 
happy  as  I  want  you  —  you  have  it." 

"  Thanks,"  she  said  in  a  whisper. 

He  felt  suddenly  the  finality '  of  their  words  as 
though  the  shadowy  hand  of  destiny  had  moved  be- 
tween them,  parting  them  irrevocably. 

"  You  have  never  been  like  any  one  else,"  he  said 
solemnly.  "  I  never  thought  I  could  forgive  —  well, 
I  do  understand.  There  is  nothing  more  to  be  said. 
Write  finis  and  close  the  book."  He  went  to  the  rack 
and  took  up  his  hat  and  stick.  "  I  suppose  I  shan't 
see  you  again  or  if  I  do  it  will  be  in  the  midst  of  a  herd 


526  THE  SALAMANDER 

of  human  beings  —  to  pretend  correctly  we  never  once 
dreamed  an  impossible  dream.  Good-by." 

Her  lips  murmured  inarticulately. 

He  took  a  step  toward  the  irrevocable  parting,  and 
then  stopped  seeking  anything  to  delay  the  inevitable. 

"One  question  —  just  one.  You  could  not  have 
loved  him  —  your  husband  —  that  night.  And 
now?  " 

"  I  did  then  though  I  wasn't  sure,"  she  said  as 
though  this  were  the  most  natural  question  in  the 
world.  "  Now  ?  Yes,  and  yet  it  is  nothing  to  the 
way  I  am  going  to  love  him,  the  way  I  must  love 
him." 

"  How  can  you  say  such  things?  "  he  said  in  a  final 
stupefaction. 

The  battle  she  had  fought,  the  incredible  triumph 
she  had  won,  had  left  her  exalted,  lifted  out  of  the 
personal  self.  She  spoke  now,  as  though  unaware  of 
his  presence,  as  though  trying  to  comprehend  things 
beyond  her  ken. 

"What  is  a  woman's  life?  Do  you  know?  Just 
an  exchange  of  illusions.  I  have  put  aside  all  the 
queer  fantastic  dreams  of  a  girl  —  I  haven't  yet  quite 
put  on  the  new  —  not  quite.  I  suppose  for  just  this 
one  moment — 'this  one  moment  of  absolute  truth,  I 
can  see  myself  as  I  really  am,  just  for  a  moment  — 
perhaps  I  shall  never  want  to  look  at  myself  so  steadily 
again.  To-day  I  can  look  ahead  and  know  everything 
that  is  coming.  I  know  that  I  shall  make  myself  just 
what  he,  my  husband,  wishes  me  to  be.  I  shall  really 
become  what  he  now  thinks  I  am.  I  shall  have  chil- 


THE  SALAMANDER  527 

dren  —  many  children  I  hope.  My  home,  my  hus- 
band, my  children  —  there  will  never  be  room  for 
any  other  thought  in  my  life.  Mine  —  all  that  is 
mine,  I  shall  cling  to  and  keep !  " 

She  heard  the  door  close,  as  the  man  before  the 
sanctity  of  the  revelation,  had  gone  in  reverence. 
Then  suddenly  a  horror  of  the  past,  of  the  room,  of 
the  Dodo  that  had  been,  seized  her.  She  wished  now 
only  to  finish,  to  escape  and  never  to  return.  She  ran 
to  the  trunk,  seized  the  bundle  of  letters  and  keep- 
sakes and  flung  them  in  the  fireplace.  Then  seizing 
a  box,  she  struck  several  matches  and  applied  them 
feverishly. 

All  at  once  the  door  opened  and  the  voice  of  her 
husband  cried  gaily : 

"Caught!" 

She  gave  a  scream,  reeling  against  the  mantelpiece. 
He  sprang  hurriedly  to  her  side,  gathering  her  into  his 
arms,  apologizing  for  the  fright  he  had  given  her  while 
she  lay  trembling  and  shivering,  quite  hysterical. 

The  horror  of  what  might  have  been,  the  last  gaping 
pit  of  fate  to  which  she  had  subjected  herself,  left 
her  sick  unto  weakness.  He  knew  nothing.  He  sus- 
pected nothing,  and  yet  he  must  have  passed  Massin- 
gale  on  the  stairs  themselves. 

"  Good  heavens,  what  a  fool  I  am !  I  didn't  mean 
to  scare  you.  I'm  a  brute  —  you  poor  child!"  he 
cried. 

"  When  did  you  come  ?  "  she  said  aghast  —  hold- 
ing herself  from  him  and  gazing  in  his  face  fearfully. 

"  Why,  just  now." 


528  THE  SALAMANDER 

"  You  promised  — " 

"  I  know,  but  I  couldn't  keep  away,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing penitently.  "  Wanted  to  surprise  the  Missis ! 
Steady." 

She  reeled,  catching  his  arm,  fighting  down  a  wild 
impulse  to  shriek  out  against  what  might  have  been, 
dangerously  inclined  toward  a  fatal  confession.  Then 
she  saw  a  dark  smirch  across  his  sleeve  and  brushing 
it  away,  asked  breathlessly : 

"Where  did  you  get  that?" 

"  Coming  up.  Infernally  black  stairs  —  couple  of 
fellows  trod  all  over  me.  Bless  your  heart,  Dodo,  I 
say  I  didn't  know  you  frightened  as  easily  as  that. 
What  a  brute  I  am.  Come  here !  " 

He  sat  down,  holding  out  his  arms. 

"  You  mustn't  frighten  me,  Garry  —  you  must  be 
careful  just  now,"  she  said  weakly,  sinking  against  his 
shoulder. 

He  surveyed  the  room  curiously,  running  his  hand 
over  her  hair.  "  Odd  old  room.  Seems  like  old 
times,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  hate  it,"  she  said  passionately. 

"  It  was  pretty  rough  going,"  he  said  sobered  im- 
mediately. "  A  pretty  tight  squeeze.  But  you  pulled 
me  out  of  it, — >you  curious,  fragile  little  child.  How 
did  you  ever  dare  ?  " 

"  Not  such  a  child  as  you  think,"  she  said  rebel- 
liously. 

"  The  idea,"  he  said,  laughing  gloriously.  Then  he 
became  serious  again.  "  Dodo,  that's  what's  marvel- 
ous about  you  women.  You  can  go  up  against  the 


THE  SALAMANDER  529 

ugliness  ot  life  and  never  —  not  for  an  instant  —  even 
realize  what  you  touch.  Bless  your  innocence !  " 

She  raised  herself  on  his  lap,  her  hands  on  his 
shoulders,  looking  deep  into  his  unseeing  eyes,  realiz- 
ing that  he  would  never  comprehend  her  otherwise. 
All  at  once  she  felt  a  fierce  resolve  to  defend  that  illu- 
sion. 

"  Garry,"  she  said  tensely,  "  that's  what  you  want 
me  to  be,  isn't  it  —  just  a  child!  " 

"  Dodo  could  never  be  anything  else !  "  he  said  joy- 
fully, oblivious  of  the  recording  hand  of  fate,  writing 
on  the  woman's  heart. 

"  Then  that's  what  I  shall  always  be,"  she  said 
softly.  She  relaxed,  cuddling  her  head  against  his 
shoulder,  repeating  in  a  tired  whisper — "Just  a 
child !  " 


The  rest  can  be  written  in  a  sentence. 
She  became  a  conventional  member  of  society, — 
rather  extreme  in  her  conservatism. 


THE   END 


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01     J 


DEC  171998 


WAV  2  7 


Form  L9-Series  444 


A    000  1 1 1  509    6 


